


Lockdown

by tommino



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Lance (Voltron) Speaks Spanish, Langst, M/M, Nothing Graphic other than blood i promise, Recovery, Self-Sacrifice, Team as Family, Torture, Whump, captured!lance, hurt!lance, i'm not a gory person, klangst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2018-11-17 23:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 38,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11278587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommino/pseuds/tommino
Summary: Lance glances over his shoulder at the approaching Galra, then stares back at the Red paladin desperately. Keith pounds at the glass and yells for him to move, to turn around and fight, but instead the Blue paladin pauses and looks him dead in the eye.Sorrow slips away as Lance pushes the warmest, most gentle smile to his face, affection flooding into his blue eyes. It’s like looking into the sun. Keith inhales sharply as he realizes what Lance is thinking.This may be the last time. The last smile.--Sacrificing himself to save Keith and Pidge, Lance is separated from the team and captured by Galra. The druids want information of course, and try to use their hostage to taunt Voltron into a confrontation.The team will stop at nothing to get him back, but the paladins are forced to watch Lance unravel at the hands of his captors while they search.





	1. Trapped

.

The sound of blaster fire breaks out behind them, and Keith dives sideways to push Lance’s head down. The shot glances off the Red paladin’s helmet instead, sending spidery cracks across the visor.

 

“Shit,” Keith curses, shaking his head as he keeps on his feet. Lance lets out a stammering thanks and keeps running. That was… too close.

 

Beside him, Pidge is panting into the comms as she relays their location to the rest of the team. The three of them are sprinting through the halls of a Galra battlestation, alarms blaring and soldiers close behind. Definitely not the most stealthy of exits.

 

“Keith what happened, are you okay?” Shiro’s worried voice comes over the line. “Your mic is still ringing from whatever just hit you.”

 

“I’m fine, they’re still in pursuit. Took a shot to the helmet but I’m okay, it just cracked my visor.” Keith doesn’t even sound out of breath, that’s hardly fair.

 

“Careful they don’t mess up that pretty face, now!” Lance quips.

 

Allura steps in before Keith can retaliate. “If your visor is damaged then the integrity of your suit has been compromised. Be careful sealing off the mid-station airlock, you can’t survive more than a few seconds without atmosphere.”

 

“Wait, what now?” Lance asks, nearly tripping as Pidge leads them around another bend. “Airlock?”

 

“It’s a hull waypoint that connects like a tube between the various sections of the base,” Shiro explains. “They’re designed to prevent fires and vacuum breaches from spreading to the rest of the station. If you don’t shut the first door properly, the airlock will vent all the oxygen in this area and seal off the second door.”

 

“What it really means is that I have to hack through two separate doors,” Pidge says with a grumble. “But apparently we have to go through there if we’re going to reach the hangar and get off this ugly lump of metal. Right, Hunk?”

 

The Yellow paladin is in charge of the map, and he’s been feeding them directions as they run. “Yep, sorry guys, it’s the fastest way there. Pidge can tear through these security codes in a second though, and the double doors will at least help you lose the squad behind you?” Lance appreciates the positive spin.

 

“Close the door on our way out, got it,” Keith confirms.

 

“Take a left!” Hunks calls. “You’re almost to the airlock, it should be just around the next corner.”

 

The lights in the hallway behind them suddenly snap to red. Pidge slows as she pulls up a reading on her holo display. “Yeah, bigger problem. They started the lockdown procedure.”

 

One by one the lights behind them start clicking from purple to red. “I can hack the airlock doors but once those lights catch up and lock down this area we’ll be stuck. I won’t be able to do much without my full setup and a few hours - and you’ll notice I have neither of those things.”

 

Keith puts his head down and pushes himself faster, pulling ahead. Lance urges Pidge back to full speed and then focuses on keeping up. Red lights chase the paladins down the looming corridor.

 

As they swerve around the corner, they see the airlock doors at the end of the hall. Beyond the first metal door lies what looks like a glass walkway, suspended in space between the two sections of the battlestation. From what Lance can see through the windows, the tunnel is fairly short - just long enough to create a stopgap.

 

Keith is the first to reach it and activates his bayard to slice through the control panel of the entry door. Pidge slides in behind him and plugs in, bringing up screen after screen of Galra code.

 

Lance hears shouting from the hallway they just left and skids to a stop, activating his gun. “Cover Pidge!” he shouts back to Keith, firing into the first round of soldiers as he backpedals to hold them off at the bend. The Red paladin looks ready to join the fight, but he brings up his shield instead as lasers start flying. Pidge is focused now, paying no attention to the battle brewing around her. She knows her job, and Keith needs to keep her safe while Lance handles the long-range.

 

The first stragglers are easy to take down, but the soldiers start getting wise now that they know what they’re running into. A few have shields and start pressing forward. Lance is forced to back up, rounding the corner and holding ground just a few lengths  from the airlock door.

 

The Green paladin lets out a sound of frustration. “Fucking door it’s… shit, why isn’t it working?”

 

It’s still too far for Keith to come help with his blade, and Lance is forced to abandon accuracy in favor of covering fire. He just needs to buy more time. The red lockdown lights come crashing down the hallway, one after another. Each tick leaves more Galra soldiers outlined in menacing red.

 

He glances over his shoulder. “Getting awful crowded in my hallway, type faster Pidgey!”

 

“I’m going, I’m going, it’s-” Her screen flashes and the door slides open with a hiss. “We’re green! Go go go.”

 

Keith steps through first and lets Pidge brush past him to the next door control. Lance fires into a group of soldiers that got too close.

 

“Lance get in here!!” Pidge calls down the hall. “I need to seal the hall door or the whole airlock is useless!”

 

Red lights suddenly sweep over Lance’s head, his body turning with them. The lights are just seconds away from the door, and the Blue paladin realizes he won’t make it in time. The lockdown will get there first.

 

“Lance, cmon!” Keith shouts, standing just inside the airlock.

 

Time slows as Lance’s frantic mind races through the situation. If the lockdown reaches that first door, they won’t be able to close it. Either all three of them will be trapped here or the waypoint will evacuate atmosphere in this area when they try to open the next door.

 

Lance lowers his gaze from the ticking red lights to lock eyes with Keith. Meets the intense stare still visible through the spindling cracks of the Red paladin's visor.

 

The sound of running soldiers registers vaguely in the background, and Lance’s eyes flick over to the control panel for the door. A third option, then.

 

Keith’s face transforms into panic as he sees Lance make the decision.

 

Raise gun, aim, fire. One perfect blue laser short-circuits the control panel and the airlock door slams shut. The red lights come snapping at its heels a moment later, the door’s locks twisting into place with a metal thud.

 

Lance can see Keith through the window, slamming his fist against the glass in desperate fury. His distraught expression breaks as he shouts to the Blue paladin. Lance can’t hear his voice through the glass, but he can see Keith’s mouth move around one silent word.

 

It comes ringing over the comms a heartbeat later, more painful than anything Lance has heard before.

  
_“NO!”_

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, your ideas and suggestions make the story great. ♥
> 
> Next chapter: Keith POV as he's forced to leave Lance behind


	2. Taken

_ “NO!” _

 

Keith slams a fist against the glass again, then starts pounding at the control panel to open the door. He knows the lockdown has reached them, heard the heavy locks engage, but  _ he needs to get back to Lance damn it OPEN.  _

 

Pidge is still kneeled beside him, eyes wide in shock as she stares at the closed door. “L-Lance?” Alarmed now, as she realizes. “Lance??”

 

Keith returns his focus to the window and sees Lance go lax, gun lowering slowly as he takes in the full force of the situation. He looks scared, but resolute. As if he actually thinks the decision was worth it.

 

“Lance what are you DOING??” Keith had recognized the look in his eyes when the Blue paladin made the choice, had known the danger before Lance even pulled the trigger. But Keith can’t bring himself to believe it. He lashes out at the door again as Pidge stammers a distressed explanation to the rest of the team.

 

“He’s… he’s on the wrong side of the door he just… we ran out of time and he- oh god, Shiro what do we do Lance is trapped and…” Her voice tightens as she chokes up in panic and disbelief.

 

Over the comms, a whispered response. “I’m sorry.”

 

Soldiers enter the hallway behind Lance, running toward the lone paladin. Keith pounds at the door in fury, in desperation. There’s too many, he needs to help, needs to fight. He screams his frustration as the door doesn’t budge.

 

Lance glances over his shoulder for a split second before turning back to the window. He knows the Galra are coming, but doesn’t do more than stare back at the Red paladin desperately. Keith yells for him to move, to turn around and fight, but instead the Blue paladin pauses and looks him dead in the eye.

 

Sorrow slips away as Lance pushes the warmest, most gentle smile to his face, affection flooding into his blue eyes. It’s like looking into the sun. Keith inhales sharply as he realizes what Lance is thinking.

 

This may be the last time. The last smile.

 

And it’s beautiful.

 

The smile glows for another second before the moment snaps, and the Galra come crashing into Lance. One tackles him around the waist and he swivels to unload his gun into the soldier’s stomach. Another shoves him sideways, and Lance stumbles even as he flicks his bayard up to fire off two more shots into the chests of the soldiers around him.

 

“Pidge open the door!” Keith demands.

 

“I… I can’t, Keith! It’s locked down it’s-” She flips through red screen after red screen as she rifles through the programming. “I can’t do anything now!”

 

“Open the fucking door!!!” He’ll slash through if he has to. As he starts swinging his bayard, Pidge cries out and grabs at his arm.

 

“Stop! You’ll break the seal, the airlock will just vent atmosphere and then you’re dead!”   
  


_ “I don’t care!!” _ Keith roars.

 

A sudden crackle sounds and a soldier jams a taser into the Blue paladin’s ribs. Lance screams as his body arcs backward and his bayard deactivates, retracting into his armor with a flash when he drops it. Keith watches in horror as Lance slumps forward, panting even as he rises to swing at the Galra. A soldier smashes a fist across his face and Lance falls to his knees with a thud. A final blow to the back of his head leaves the paladin sprawled across the floor, unmoving.

 

As they restrain the limp blue form, a few soldiers step forward to work on unsealing the airlock door. Keith snarls from behind the window, daring them to unlock it. Demanding they open the door so he can tear them limb from limb. “Cmon open it, fucking do it.”

 

Behind him, Pidge is plugged into the next control panel, fingers shaking as she types. Tears track down her face as she numbly nods along to Shiro’s commands to get the second door open.

 

“What are you talking about?? We’re not leaving him here!” Keith whirls back toward the door and starts slamming his shoulder into it again. “I’m not going, they’re taking Lance god damn it, I need to-”

 

“KEITH.” Shiro’s voice rings out over the comms, his harsh tone shocking the Red paladin into silence. “You have to go. Go NOW. Take Pidge and get out of there immediately, that’s an order Keith.”

 

Keith reels, paralyzed with the choice, and turns to look at Pidge. The smaller paladin stares back, distraught and scared as her hands pause their movement. She’s terrified. For the team, for Lance, for herself - but she would never choose to leave family behind. 

 

Keith has to do it. Protect her, get them both out of here. If he were alone, Keith would fight to his last breath, bloody and brutal... but he’s not the only one at risk here. 

 

Lance would never forgive him if something happened to Pidge.

 

Keith is forced to turn away from the window, instincts screaming in resistance as he nods his head for Pidge to continue. Her face crumbles and she types the last lines of code to open the second door. It slides across with a hiss and Keith pulls the Green paladin to her feet. They have to go.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Lance POV as he meets his captors and goes through the first round of interrogation.
> 
> If you have suggestions, let me know so I can share the blame for hurting poor Lance...


	3. Tension

The Black lion pounces sideways, dodging an incoming attack and tearing into another Galra fightership. It seems there’s no end to them. Even as the wreckage drifts away, two more vessels zoom in to take its place. 

 

Shiro can barely see the Yellow lion between the flickering swarm of purple around them, and the castleship shields are flickering like a sparkler as the barrier absorbs shot after shot.

 

An explosion blossoms out from the side of the battlecruiser, curling flames swallowed up in the battlefield of space. The Green lion comes tearing out of the ruined hangar, forcing some of the smaller assault fighters to pivot and contend with this new threat. Hunk charges in to clear a path for the three of them to regroup.

 

Together they fight with a fury, striking forward and trying everything they can to push the cruiser’s defenses back. But down a paladin and with Red and Blue still docked back at the castle, the team is unable to break through the lines of Galra fighters.

 

“The castle can’t take much more of this!” Allura calls over the comms, sounding strained as she no doubt manages multiple battlestations alongside Coran. “Shields at 18 percent!”

 

Shiro slows for a moment, forcing himself to take in the scale of the battle. To look with clear eyes and see the big picture. Despite their determination, Voltron’s stamina is flagging.

 

Hunk takes a heavy hit to the side, and the Yellow lion takes a second too long to shake it off. Pidge is clearly exhausted even as her lion swoops and dives through the enemy. Keith is… well, Keith sounds ready to throw himself from Green and charge into the fight with just his bayard. Coran shouts for Allura to hold onto something, and the next rumble carries over the comms with a buzz. The team is blind to their own struggles, focused completely on one goal: their Blue Paladin.

 

They can’t go on like this, but the idea of turning back makes Shiro feel ill.

 

Lance needs help, maybe he can still...  _ No. _ The team needs their Leader, trusts him to make decisions with his head, not his heart. Shiro braces himself.

 

They have to retreat.

 

“Fall back.” The order comes out quietly, but leaves a sweeping silence behind it. At the sounds of protest from the other paladins, he repeats his command. “We have to fall back. Now!”

 

Allura’s voice is hesitant, even though she has likely come to the same conclusion as the Black paladin. “Shiro, are you su-”

 

“We need a wormhole, Princess. Right away. Hunk, cover Green and follow my lead. Once we break through the cluster to my left, we turn and make a run for the castleship.” 

 

Directions float to his lips like second nature, but his head is still running through the possibility of staying, of fighting their way back to Lance. Any arguments from the team are filtered to background noise as Shiro’s attention splits between the desire to stay and the need to retreat.

 

“Go!” He presses the throttles forward and the three lions dash toward the castle, Galra ships chasing at their tails. A blue portal sweeps a ring around the Castle of Lions and contracts just as the lions slip through behind it.

 

Stars and planets shift around them, and the Black lion navigates its way back to the hangar just as the wormhole settles into another unfamiliar section of space. Shiro reluctantly peels his fingers back from their white-knuckled grip on the joysticks, flesh hand shaking as it lifts away from the control panel. 

 

One thought pounds through his head on repeat. He left a paladin behind.

 

Left him behind in the hands of the Galra, to be interrogated, tortured, killed… or worse. Shiro stumbles out of his seat and makes his way down the ramp in a daze, mind drifting back to memories of purple tinted cells and the cries of agony around him.

 

He’s left Lance to that.

 

Shiro pulls his helmet off haphazardly, and harsh footsteps come clattering down the hall. The door opens with a whoosh of recirculated air and Keith comes barreling in, Hunk close behind. Pidge enters looking out of breath from trying to slow her teammates down.

 

“RETREAT?” Keith locks eyes with Shiro, his usually respectful expression twisted into a storm of rage and fear. He stares at the Black paladin like he’s a burning fuse, waiting for an answer, an explanation. Shiro doesn’t react, guilt swamping over him.

 

“You made us leave.” Hunk sounds confused, tone lifting with a note of betrayal. “How could you order us to leave?? Lance is still back there, we were so close!” He looks between the paladins as if to check they’re hearing him, unable to believe they could just stand there and do nothing.

 

“We need to go back,” Keith demands. “We need to FIGHT.”

 

Allura and Coran arrive in a rush, stopping short when they see the paladins confronting their leader. The princess’ face tightens, clearly sympathizing with Shiro’s position. For having made the choice. A looming tension builds as the others wait for his response.

 

“We were outgunned, and vastly unprepared for a fight of that scale,” she offers softly.

 

“But we can’t just… leave him!!” Keith looks between the two leaders in shock, voice tinged with panic as he bursts out again. Pidge and Hunk chime in as well, voices mingling in a frightened crescendo. “Do you know what they’ll do to him?? What they’ll-”   
  
“YES.” Shiro finally snaps. “YES, Keith. I know  _ exactly _ what they can do to prisoners.” As he looks up, the team flinches back from the sudden intensity in his eyes.

 

The room falls silent. 

 

A flash of remorse crosses Keith’s face as the Red paladin catches up to his own words, and Hunk’s outrage fades to heartbreak. Pidge reaches over to take ahold of the Yellow paladin’s hand.

 

The rush fades as quickly as it came, leaving Shiro exhausted. He knows their anger is only a thin veneer over the swirling core of fear. They’re all so scared, desperate for the safety of their teammate. He lets his voice drop.

 

“I know what our retreat means for Lance, and I had to order it anyway. So yes, I know just what kind of a decision I made.” Shiro feels ready to drown under the weight of that choice already. He pauses for a shuddering breath, steeling himself.

 

“But it was this or I lose two or three of my paladins to the same fate.” The Black paladin lifts his gaze to brush over the stricken faces of each person in the room. The small family in front of him a reminder of who he stands to protect. 

 

“We don’t have the luxury of reckless gambles, that’s not what a leader does. A good leader looks after his team.” 

 

He stares each paladin in the eye as he speaks, conviction trickling into his voice to fill the fractured gaps.

 

“Lance knew that. Now we have to get him back.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally wrote too much Shiro angst and ran out of room for the transmission!! But this gives us a lovely opportunity, dear readers.
> 
> **Next Chapter:** Whose perspective should we use for the team watching the video of Lance’s first interrogation? Hunk, Shiro, or Keith?? _(There will be more than one video and many POV switches to come, so don’t fret if you just can’t decide)_


	4. Tortured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **This Chapter Has Interrogation.** I promise there will be nothing gory or permanently damaging, mainly beating Lance up and psychological torture. 
> 
> However! If you’re uncomfortable reading it at any point, please just let me know in the comments and I’ll be happy to summarize so you can keep reading the rest of the chapters ♥

.

Lance wakes up in his cell with a gasp, head pounding. _Keith. Pidge. Are they-_ He looks wildly around him as he catches his bearings. Lying on his side in the pale purple light, Lance can see every inch of the tiny chamber.

 

He’s alone. That’s… good.

 

The Blue paladin groans and moves to bring a hand to his temple, only to meet resistance. Restraints. One forearm stacked on top of the other, his wrists are clasped in two metal rings behind his back. He can feel the chill of the cuffs through his flight suit.

 

Lance rolls to his knees and carefully sits up. His armor is missing above the waist, and his helmet is nowhere to be seen. No comms, but that’d be too good to be true. His chestplate and gauntlets have been taken, yet the armor on his legs is still there. If he could just reach down to summon his bayard...

 

Twisting himself in an attempt to press his fingers forward, Lance overbalances and tips sideways. His shoulder connects with the cell wall and his head knocks against it a moment later. His legs slide out in pain and connect with the other wall. Through the dull thudding in his skull, Lance realizes just how small the cell is.

 

Four metal walls press in on all sides, completely blank except for the outline of a door in front of him. The purple lights of the ceiling are high above him, but he wouldn’t even be able to stretch out his arms around him if the restraints were off. The enclosed space sets off a buzzing under his skin and Lance can feel his breathing pick up.

 

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to smother the crawling in his chest. The darkness just makes it worse though, and the Blue paladin opens his eyes again to stare up at the ceiling and count his breaths. _It’s just a room. Don’t think about it._

 

Letting his gaze unfocus under the glare of the lights, Lance turns his thoughts to his teammates. Are they in cells next to him? They shouldn’t be, the door was sealed - all they had to do was go. Lance remembers the look on Keith’s face, the sound of Pidge crying into the comms. He never saw them leave, oh god, they couldn’t have stayed to fight...

 

No, Shiro would have made the choice. As compassionate as he is at heart, their leader knows when to call it. To cut their losses. Risk three paladins or save two? Shiro would have ordered them out, Hunk leading them through the twisting passages of the battlecruiser. Lance wonders if that’s where he is now.

 

His thoughts are cut off by the hiss of the door unsealing. Lance’s head snaps forward and he braces himself for a fight.

 

As soon as the panel slides open, a heavy boot kicks into his chest, pinning him backward on the floor and knocking the air from his lungs. The Galra soldier steps back and yanks the Blue paladin out by the ankle. Before he can react, Lance finds himself out of the cell and into the firm grip of two soldiers, with another three at the ready behind them. He struggles anyway, but clearly the paladin has little choice in their destination.

 

Dragged down the halls, Lance is brought to an open area of the ship. One curved wall is nothing but glass, the void of space speckled with distant dots of stars. The control panels and holo screens lining the rest of the room are surrounded by bubbling tubes, strange devices, and even a camera feed of the cells. Lance runs his eyes over the small displays, searching for a flash of red or green armor.

 

The guards wrench him forward to face the middle of the room, where a tall Galra soldier stands beside a cloaked figure. Jagged purple robes drape around her feet.

 

Voltron hadn’t known there was a druid aboard.

 

Lance feels the first trickle of fear and shoves it down beneath a mocking smirk. “Looks like I got a luxury suite, conveniently located next to the shadowy torture chamber. Is there free breakfast?”

 

The druid doesn’t react, but her taller companion quirks an eyebrow in irritation. The Galra commander gestures for the guards to bring their prisoner closer.

 

“If the thread count is less than 400, I’m leaving a bad review,” Lance continues as they drag him forward. If he can’t take a swing at them, he might as well try to annoy his captors to death.

 

The Galra commander sneers down at him. “The druids do love a spirited soul to break.” He steps aside to reveal a restraining table, heavy metal surface tilted up at a near-standing angle. “I look forward to seeing how long that snark lasts.”

 

The druid chuckles lightly, and Lance can feel his face go cold.

 

The rings around his wrists disconnect with a buzz, and the guards manhandle him around to press his back against the incline. They force his arms down too, and the magnetic cuffs connect to the table with a hollow clank. Lance leans forward to tug at them fruitlessly, already knowing their strength.

 

“You’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m going to betray my team,” he growls.

 

The druid just smiles at him, and suddenly there’s a brush of claws past his ears and a cold metal collar latches around his throat. Lance jumps at the abrupt intrusion and hears the commander laugh from behind him. The collar buzzes and snaps back onto the metal surface, nearly choking him as the magnet pulls his head back with it.

 

Heavy hands settle on his shoulders, and Lance discovers he can’t move enough to shake them off. The weight of the unwanted touch is burning, get off _get off._

 

“Did I startle you, boy?” the commander mutters into his ear. Galran claws roll into the paladin’s shoulders and Lance hisses. It hurts, but he can’t do more than shuffle his feet and strain forward against the restraints. He’s pinned like bug. Lance swallows thickly and clenches his fists against the prickling ache begging him to shake out his immobile limbs.

 

“What do you even want,” he grits. “I won’t tell you anything.”

 

The druid finally speaks up. “Well you’re the only paladin we’ve got, so we’ll have to make do. A shame that Green and Red didn’t survive the ruptured airlock.”

 

All thoughts of resistance freefall from Lance’s mind. Panic, cold and shocking, comes rushing in with a gasp. _No._

 

The druid throws her head back in a cackle. “Such a vivid reaction! This will be too easy.” _No. No no no no..._

 

She steps closer, eyes narrowed. “Your pathetic little teammates escaped, but with your help I’m sure we’ll have them back here to sing their own songs of pain alongside you.”

 

Lance lets out his breath in a rush, fear battling with confusion and relief. “I will never help you, _hag_.”

 

“You’re here so we can send your team a little message,” the commander says. “Let them know you’re in good hands.” He grins, and waves an arm outward. “Smile for the cameras.”

 

That gets Lance’s attention. His head lifts, and he flicks his eyes around the room looking for a source. His team. Are they watching now? He has to... has to tell them.

 

“...guys? Guys if you can hear this, I won’t talk, you know I won’t! I’m not going to tell them anything I swear, just stay safe, be careful th-” The commander cuts him off with a backhand.

 

“Drevala and her sisters have spent decades learning how to pry information from unwilling minds,” he threatens. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, paladin.”

 

The druid steps forward at the mention of her name, gripping Lance by the chin. “Where is the castle ship?”

 

Not a chance. “In space, is my best guess. Far away from your scaly grip.”

 

Drevala smiles, and flicks a finger at her side. A jolt of electricity runs through the metal, locking up his limbs before Lance even realizes what’s happened. His teeth clench, mouth going dry as his muscles turn to steel. He lets out a sharp grunt at the pain, but soon the energy stops, leaving him panting.

 

“What is Voltron’s next plan for attacking the battlecruiser?”

 

Lance catches his breath before answering. “Win, obviously. Smash and grab and wreck your shit as usual,” he offers viciously.

 

Another wave of power comes crashing through the table. He’s ready for it this time, back arching off the table as far as the restraints allow while he writhes. Shit that hurts.

 

“It’s a shame we couldn’t have snagged a paladin of more… relevance,” the Galra commander laments. “Instead we just got a leg. As if he’ll know anything of their tactics.”

 

“He’ll still know about their defenses, their shields,” the druid says. “Tell us about the castle ship.”

 

Lance is silent. The next jolt brings tears to his eyes and he bites down on his tongue hard enough to bleed. He won’t scream. Not for the druids, not in front of his team.

 

Drevala moves to shock him again, and he gasps out, “Wait! I’ll tell you!” She pauses.

 

“I’ll tell you everything. There’s… there’s a really sweet couch in the north wing and Hunk swears the left cushion is more comfortable. Coran lets me use the star map and Pidge hangs out there to work sometime, and Keith likes to-” The druid’s electricity rips through him again, stronger than the last waves. He cries out for a moment, can’t help it. As it fades away, he huffs a weak laugh. “Gotcha.”

 

The Galra commander steps closer and slams a fist into the Blue paladin’s side. “You think this is a game? You impudent little...”

 

“Enough, Vendek,” the druid interrupts. “Clearly we won’t get anything from this one. We need time, more pain to snap his defenses. Perhaps his friends will be more accommodating when they see him squirm. See the tears in his eyes.”

 

Lance steels himself. He has to be strong. His team is coming for him, they will. The others are powerful and brilliant, and even down a paladin they’re unstoppable together. He just needs to be strong, hold out however he can. With jibes and jokes and whatever it takes to keep himself sane.

 

“Gag him.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your hint for Next chapter: Shiro POV as Keith and Pidge return, plus a broadcast


	5. Transmission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note: This chapter has Interrogation.**
> 
>  
> 
> I agonized over the POV, you all had such heartbreaking suggestions. This chapter is from Keith's eyes, but I’m hoping you feel multiple perspectives come through. (A later interrogation chapter is now reserved for Hunk because it explicitly involves his history with Lance, so please look forward to that too!)

 

_ "Now we have to get him back.” _

 

As the confidence takes hold again in Shiro’s voice, Keith feels the whole room rise along with him. Hunk nods with fierce conviction, hand tightening around Pidge’s as the team rallies together. They can do this.

 

“We need to regroup and prepare to launch a full scale rescue mission,” Shiro says. “Where are we right now, Princess?”

 

“I… don’t actually know at the moment,” a tired Allura replies, looking apologetic. “We warped out in such a rush that I just selected the first distant location that felt safe.”

 

“Not a problem,” Coran jumps in. “The castle ship has extensive star maps from across the universe. The system just gives the constellations a quick check and X marks the spot!”

 

Pidge speaks up as well, exhaustion clearing away for determination. “While we’re in the bridge, we need to find that battlecruiser. I can check that the ship is still in the same location and start tracking it.”

 

“We can’t lose it.” Hunk’s voice is completely serious. “It’s our only lead back to Lance. Let’s go.”

 

Keith lingers behind as the crew makes their way out into the hall. He steps forward as the last paladin moves to leave.

 

“Shiro... look, what I said was... I’m sorry about…”

 

The Black paladin smiles gently and places a firm hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay Keith. I know you didn’t mean it that way. You were worried about your teammate, and you’re certainly not the only one. Lance needs us focused, alright?”

 

Keith still feels ashamed, but he’s glad Shiro understood his fumbling attempts to apologize. Of course the Black paladin knows what’s at stake here, better than anyone else.

 

“We’ll get him back...” Keith tries his hardest not to let it come out like a question, but the need for reassurance must be clear in his expression.

 

“We’ll get him back,” Shiro confirms.

 

The two make their way into the bridge, where the others are already leaned over control panels. Allura and Coran are confirming the castle ship’s position while Pidge taps across multiple holo screens. Hunk stares over her shoulder intently as coordinates and scans pass by in a jumble of text. It’s not that he doubts the Green paladin’s work, of course. He just wants to double check. Keith can identify, wishing there was something he could do right now to be helpful.

 

Pidge’s brow scrunches and her typing speeds up. “Guys…”

 

At the sound of her voice, Keith pushes himself forward to stare at the screen, but he doesn’t understand what he’s seeing. Hunk steps back with a curse, hand pressed to his forehead. Something’s wrong.

 

“The ship is gone. They’ve moved and I have… no signal,” Pidge’s voice wavers. “T-there’s nothing to track.” She looks up at the rest of them. Hunk paces behind her, already trying to churn out another plan.

 

“Can you widen the search parameters? Maybe they didn’t do a full jump,” Shiro directs. Pidge nods uncertainly and swivels back to the control panel. It’s a slim chance at best, and the whole team knows it. Without this, they have no trail, no lead, nothing to follow and no idea how to...

 

Hunk stops pacing. Keith turns to see him staring at a blinking light on the nav panel. “Hey. That’s the distress signal, right?” the other paladin asks.

 

“It is.” Allura steps over to the keypad and starts typing. “Someone started broadcasting on all channels just a little while ago, but...” The Altean looks puzzled as she scans the text.

 

“We don’t have time for a distress signal,” Keith says immediately. “We need to get Lance back before anything else.”

 

Beside him, Hunk purses his lips but doesn’t dispute the harsh statement. The two share a sideways glance and Keith can tell they’re in agreement. Their Blue paladin comes first, in all things.

 

“It’s strange though,” Allura continues. “A message is coming through, broadcast like a distress signal, but there’s no other information. It just says…  _ for the eyes of Voltron _ .”

 

Circles spin across the screen as the message package assembles itself. “It’s a video.” 

 

Keith swallows tightly. The timing feels too close to be coincidence. Allura looks back over at Shiro, concerned, and their leader gives a short nod.

 

“Play it.”

 

The holo screen expands as an image cuts across the display. The view covers a wide room, dim purple lights glowing from control panels at the sides. The back wall is nothing but stars, void broken down the center by the jarring slice of a restraining table. Beside it stands a Galra soldier in full armor, his attention focused off screen.

 

“Looks like I got a luxury suite, conveniently located next to the shadowy torture chamber. Is there free breakfast?” The familiar voice makes them all suck in a breath.

 

The commander gestures and Lance’s voice gets closer as he’s dragged into frame. “If the thread count is less than 400, I’m leaving a bad review.”

 

A message directly from the Galra, taunting them. Keith doesn’t understand its purpose, but beneath the simmering outrage, the video is almost a relief. Lance is alive. Conscious enough to be making jokes. There’s information here, and anything at all to go on gives them hope. A chance to find Lance and tear his captors to shreds.

 

As the armored Galra sneers down at the Blue paladin, he shifts enough for the camera to catch a flutter of purple fabric. Shiro pulls in a ragged breath, the first to recognize it.

 

“The druids do love a spirited soul to break.” The commander’s next movement reveals a Galra witch beside him.

 

Keith’s blood runs cold, and he risks a glance over his shoulder to find Shiro. The Black paladin has gone rigid, locked forward as he grips the back of Pidge’s chair for support. His expression is tight, but he doesn’t look away from the screen.

 

“I look forward to seeing how long that snark lasts.” 

 

The guards manhandle Lance into position against the tilted table, the cuffs around his wrists snapping to the metal surface with a clatter. Hunk leans closer as if he could reach through the screen and pull his best friend into his arms. 

 

Lance is missing all the armor above his waist, but he looks okay so far. Keith scans the black undersuit for signs of injury, and his eyes linger on a dark bruise hidden in the Blue paladin’s hairline. The memory of Lance fighting in the hallway rises unbidden, and Keith feels like he’s trapped behind the glass again, forced to stand here and watch.

 

“You’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m going to betray my team,” Lance growls with an intensity that the team isn’t used to seeing.

 

The paladin doesn’t notice the commander circle around behind him, and he startles when the Galra reaches around him to lock something around his neck. A flash of metal pulls Lance back onto the table, and Keith realizes it’s a collar. A fucking collar. The sight of it, combined with the commander’s laugh, strikes off a spark burning in Keith. The Galra settles his hands onto Lance’s shoulders, leaning close to murmur in his ear while the boy tries to shift away. A searing burn sweeps through the Red paladin.  _ Get off him. _

 

Lance hisses when the heavy touch turns painful, claws rolling through the flightsuit to prick at skin. “What do you even want? I won’t tell you anything.”

 

The druid finally speaks up. “Well you’re the only paladin we’ve got, so we’ll have to make do. A shame that Green and Red didn’t survive the ruptured airlock.” The color drains from Lance’s face in an instant, eyes going wide.

 

“No! We’re okay,” Pidge calls out to the screen. “Lance we’re right here, you saved us!”

 

Hunk turns his gaze to Keith and Pidge in dismay. “If he thinks you’re gone, either of you… He’ll break. There’s no question, he wouldn’t be able to handle the idea of losing you.”

 

A few cycles ago, Keith might not have believed him. But the look on Lance’s face as the lockdown lights came sweeping down the hall…

 

The druid steps closer, eyes narrowed. “Your pathetic little teammates escaped, but with your help I’m sure we’ll have them back here to sing their own songs of pain alongside you.”

 

Lance lets out his breath in a rush, but seems to bolster himself with the next inhale. “I will never help you,  _ hag.” _

 

Beneath the fierce words, they can tell the Blue paladin is scared. Who wouldn’t be? Strapped to a table in an enemy stronghold, staring down an interrogator whose capacity for cruelty defies words. Lance glares harder, eyes wary.

 

Such stubborn resistance will only bring him more pain, but Keith can’t help feeling a hum of pride. Brave in a horrific situation, lashing out against unwinnable odds. Lance is a paladin through and through.

 

“You’re here so we can send your team a little message,” the commander says. “Let them know you’re in good hands.” He grins, and sweeps an arm across the room. “Smile for the cameras.”

 

Lance’s head lifts immediately, expression desperate as he scans the area. Keith realizes he would trade anything for the glass window again, rather than having Lance stranded alone like this behind a camera lens.

 

“...guys? Guys if you can hear this, I won’t talk, you know I won’t! I’m not going to tell them anything I swear, just stay safe, be careful th-” His head snaps backward with the commander’s backhand, and Hunk lets out a low whine.

 

“We know, Lance,” Allura whispers. Her hands are clasped in front of her, knuckles white from the pressure. 

 

“Drevala and her sisters have spent decades learning how to pry information from unwilling minds,” the commander threatens. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, paladin.”

 

The druid steps forward at the mention of her name, seizing Lance by the chin. “Where is the castle ship?”

Lance raises an eyebrow. “In space, is my best guess. Far away from your scaly grip.” Keith has been on the receiving end of that brazen tone plenty of times before, but instead of riling him up as usual, the sarcastic reply strikes a chord of fear.

 

Instead of frustration, however, the druid just smiles. Keith barely has a moment to be alarmed before a jolt of electricity goes crashing over the table. His teammates shout around him as they watch Lance twist against his restraints in shuddering tension. The energy cuts off and the paladin slumps into the table.

 

“What is Voltron’s next plan for attacking the battlecruiser?”

 

Keith seethes over the unfairness of it. He couldn’t even know that! They’re asking impossible questions, punishing the Blue paladin however they want.

 

Lance doesn’t let that stop him, countering the fear with bravado. “Win, obviously. Smash and grab and wreck your shit as usual.”

 

The Galra shock him again. Spine arching painfully, Lance bites back a groan even as the power crackles around him. When it finally stops, they can see him blink around the agony, lashes damp.

 

“I’m going to be sick,” Hunk says.  “I can’t watch this I can’t…” But to look away, to not know, would be worse.

 

The commander complains that their hostage is irrelevant, talks as if the Blue paladin isn’t an integral part of the team. Drevala demands Lance tell them about the castle ship’s defenses. 

 

Lance keeps a steady silence, even through the next convulsion. “How much can a human heart take?” someone asks, and Hunk stammers out an amperage. The team tenses as the druid threatens to start again.

 

“Wait! I’ll tell you!” Keith’s breath catches at Lance’s words.

 

“I’ll tell you everything. There’s… there’s a really sweet couch in the north wing and Hunk swears the left cushion is more comfortable. Coran lets me use the star map and Pidge hangs out there to work sometime, and Keith likes to-”

 

The Blue paladin chokes on the rest as the druid retaliates, and Keith pounds a fist into the console as he fights back tears. It’s worse when Lance talks about them, as they sit here and watch. It reminds him that Lance  _ chose  _ this. For Keith. For Pidge. To protect his Voltron family.

 

“Gotcha,” Lance rasps out. Now, Keith can do nothing to protect him.

 

Pidge begs for it to end, voice cracking. “Tell them! Just tell them and make it stop, Lance, please…”

 

The Galra commander steps closer to slam a punch into the Blue paladin’s side, and Keith winces as the restraints block Lance’s reflex to curl up around the blow. The snarling commander looks ready to strike Lance again, but the druid interrupts.

 

“Enough, Vendek. Clearly we won’t get anything from this one. We need time, more pain to snap his defenses.” Drevala’s voice tilts menacingly. “Perhaps his friends will be more accommodating when they see him squirm. See the tears in his eyes.”

 

How dare they. How dare the Galra use Lance against them like this?? Keith drops his gaze and tries to slow his thundering heartbeat. To think he was grateful for the video a few minutes ago, thought it would give them clues. Hope. What an idiot. No information is worth this. Watching them torture their captive just to get a rise out of Voltron...

 

“Gag him.”

 

Keith’s head whips back up to the screen. What? 

 

Lance stares up at the druid in shock, mouth agape as he processes her command. Wide blue eyes follow Vendek as the Galra retrieves something from offscreen. More guards come forward to hold the Blue paladin down by the shoulders. The commander returns, anticipatory smile growing as he grasps Lance around the throat and starts wrapping a dark material into place.

 

Hunk looks as panicked as his best friend. “No… no no, buddy, oh Lance.” Allura looks to the Yellow paladin in frightened confusion. “Don’t you get it?? That’s his anchor. Lance talks and jokes to keep himself present,” he explains in a rush. “They can’t take that from him like this.”

 

“Lance had laryngitis for a week back at the Garrison,” Pidge says, understanding dawning on her face. “After a few days of no talking, it was like he just… shut down.”

 

The team looks back to the screen with horrified clarity. It makes sense, Keith realizes. The Blue paladin is always chattering, flirting, discussing. Often it was for the group’s benefit, smoothing awkward silences and lifting their spirits. Keith has never considered how important the action is for Lance’s own sake. To lose that comfort now, tied down, knowing there’s nothing you can do or say to change your situation… 

 

A frustrated sob rises in the Red paladin’s chest. Keeping silent is no longer resistance or a victory, because the Galra don’t even want information anymore. They want him to suffer.

 

“You’ve had your chance to answer my questions. Now you pay for your petty resistance,” Drevala says. “I don’t need your cooperation, I just want Voltron to watch you scream.”

 

When Vendek steps back, Keith jolts, breath catching and spine turning to steel as the team sees Lance. A painful black strap wraps around the lower half of his face, fastened at the side with three silver clasps. The material digs into his cheekbones as Lance strains against the mask, icy glare aimed at the Galra before him.

 

“Oh my poor boy,” Coran murmurs, sounding close to tears.

 

Drevala sends another current through the table, longer than the last times. The Blue paladin writhes, eyes squeezing shut as a muffled scream comes from behind the gag. 

 

_ CRACK. _

 

Pidge yelps and the whole team turns around, startled. Shiro doesn’t react, horrified eyes still glued to the screen. The back of the Green paladin’s chair is crushed, splintered fissures streaking out from beneath their leader’s grip.

 

“I called for retreat.” Shiro’s gaze is unfocused as he drops his head into his palms, overwhelmed by guilt. “Left him behind. Oh god, what have I done…” Allura steps in to wrap him up in her arms.

 

The electricity stops and Lance falls limp across the table, panting heavily through his nose while the twinges recede. Drevala steps closer to touch the restraint on his right wrist.

 

“There is one thing you can do to make it stop, little blue,” she croons.

 

Lance’s head lolls sideways as the magnet deactivates, brows furrowing in confusion. He looks too weak to do anything but let his arm hang, fingers twitching as aftershocks echo through his body.

 

“Summon your weapon.”

 

Allura gasps in alarm, and the team looks to her for explanation. “T-the bayards are linked to your lions’ consciousness, and Blue is no doubt searching desperately for her pilot,” she says. “If they get their hands on the bayard of a current paladin, they might be able to track the signal back to the castle.”

 

“ _ Good _ ,” Keith growls. He doesn’t care, he’ll kill them all. “Let them come.”

 

Pidge speaks up, voice small but certain. “If the Galra get his bayard and can track us… then they won’t need Lance alive anymore.”

The paladins turn back to the transmission as Vendek hits the Blue paladin again. If Lance had surrendered his weapon when this was recorded, the battlecruiser could be on its way to them right now - but the look on his face sends the thought flying from Keith’s mind. He knows that scowl, sees the creeping suspicion give way to outright stubbornness.

 

_ Not a chance. _

 

Lance lifts his trembling arm slightly, looking the commander dead in the eye as he glowers over the gag. One side of his nose is bleeding, but the fierceness of his expression isn’t lost. With an aching grimace, Lance... winks and uses his free hand to flip his captors the bird.

 

Hunk lets out a huff, as if he expected as much, but instead of a laugh, the Yellow paladin is holding back tears. Ridiculous, sarcastic,  _ brave  _ Lance.

 

It takes a moment for the Galra to register the gesture as disrespectful, and then the pain starts again. “You overestimate your value, scum,” the commander snarls. “We’ll have the rest of your miserable team soon, and you’ll be nothing more than scrap to be used as we please.” Lance lies panting on the table. 

 

“Maybe we’ll give you to the druids, they always need more lab rats.” Shiro flinches at Vendek’s words.

 

Drevala steps back and glances toward the camera. “What do you think your team is thinking right now, hmm? Do you think they care enough to come get you?”

 

“Just tell me where you are, witch, and I’ll claw my way to you,” Hunk grits out. Keith bares his teeth at the thought.

 

“The only thing Voltron can do is surrender their lions. That’s all it takes to free you,” Drevala says lightly, her head tilting to the side. “Do you think they value you enough for that?”

 

Lance’s face falls, and Keith knows his expression is mirrored on every paladin in the room. They… they can’t do that. Even if they could turn over the lions, the Galra would just kill them all. Starting with the Blue paladin. Pidge lets out a soft whimper as Lance’s eyes flutter shut, hopeless.

 

“Looks like we’ll just have to wait and see,” the commander promises, and the transmission cuts out.

 

Silence.

 

Keith can feel himself trembling, buzzing from the inside out, and he waits for another rush of furious adrenaline to push him out of this numbness. 

 

It never comes. He’s left… blank. Staring up at the empty screen, with no new information or leads on how to get Lance back. There’s nothing there. Nothing to punch, to fight - there’s nothing to  _ do.  _ There’s nothing he  _ can _ do.

 

With nowhere to direct his anger, Keith finds himself adrift, fist clenching as his eyes fill with frustrated tears. He turns to look at Shiro, who seems just as helpless, supported by the Princess as guilt and uncertainty washes over his face. It’s terrifying. Their leader, Keith’s mentor, the head of Voltron… doesn’t know what to do. Shiro is supposed to have the answers.

 

Panic comes bubbling up from beneath him. Keith stumbles to catch himself on the control panel as the weight of it all comes crashing down.

 

Pidge looks traumatized even as a crying Hunk wraps her up in a hug. Coran looks heartbroken and pulls the shaking paladins in close to his chest. The Green paladin finally breaks, and Hunk sobs harder at the sound. “We have to get him. W-we have to get him back.”

 

A darker question hangs above their heads, but no one dares voice it.

 

_ What if we can’t? _

_. _

_. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more hurt the better the comfort, right? RIGHT??
> 
> I kept stopping mid-sentence to put hands on my cheeks in horror, I feel so guilty writing this :O Letting me know whether you enjoyed it would definitely help me feel less like a monster.
> 
> **Next chapter:** The team forms a plan and works relentlessly to find Lance, while Pidge processes the Blue paladin’s sacrifice.


	6. Tireless

 

“Pidge?”

 

One more line of code.

 

“You in there?”

 

She can’t stop yet, there are still so many more bytes to process.

 

“Pardon me Number Five, but I’m afraid we’ve got to override the doors.”

 

Searching, she has to keep searching.

 

After a series of beeps, two figures step into the Green paladin’s room. Pidge doesn’t look up from her computer, barely registering the intrusion until a touch settles on her shoulder. With a flinch, she blinks up into the concerned faces of Hunk and Coran.

 

“Hey Pidge, we didn’t mean to startle you but you missed dinner again,” the Yellow paladin says. “You, uh… you don’t look so good, buddy.”

 

“I’m fine.” Pidge turns back to her laptop, wires and cables scattered like vines around her spot on the floor. She’s barely made it through a fraction of the data collection, scanning lines and lines of transmissions in all languages and cracking codes of varying security levels. Searching… everything. Anything that might reveal even a thread of Galra chatter.

 

Hunk and Coran share a look. “When’s the last time you slept, if I may ask?” Coran asks, kneeling down.

  
Irrelevant. Pidge shrugs and keeps typing. The screen is blurry again, so she rubs at her eyes until the text snaps back to focus.

 

“Pidge. It’s been two days at least since I’ve seen you outside of this room.” Hunk is serious now. “Allura said she ran into you in the kitchen in the middle of the night, but it seemed more like you were sleepwalking. Do you even remember that?”

 

“Not… really.” It was the nightmare that woke her up, she remembers that. There’s no point trying to sleep if she’s just going to find herself back in the airlock, Lance whispering _I’m sorry_ into the comms over and over. She might as well be doing something useful.

 

“It isn’t useful if you’re too tired to even see what you’re typing!!” Hunk exclaims. She must be muttering to herself again. “We all need to get at least a few hours of sleep if we’re going to make any real progress.”

 

“That may be true for you, but I _said_ I’m fine.” They’re just slowing her down now. Can’t they see she has work to do? They have to find Lance.

 

Coran suggests she let Hunk take over for a little while, surely he can handle the transmissions sorting, no? The Yellow paladin has been scanning the areas near the battlecruisers’ last location, so maybe he’ll recognize some clues in the messages. Pidge doesn’t respond, and a gentle hand reaches for her computer.

 

“NO!” Pidge snaps, curling the laptop into her chest protectively. “I’m going to find him, so just go away and let me keep searching! Don’t you even WANT to get him back??”

 

A moment of stunned silence. Eventually Hunk speaks, scratchy voice nearly a whisper.

 

“...he’s my brother too, you know,”

 

Her eyes lift for the first time to meet the devastated faces staring back at her. Oh.

 

Pidge swallows as she realizes just how heartbroken Hunk looks. Dark smudges rest under his eyes, and the exhausted paladin looks close to tears at Pidge’s accusation. Coran looks so disappointed that Pidge feels her own eyes well up.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she says, bringing her hands up to her face. “I didn’t mean that, I’m j-just so tired. Of course you want him back, I’m sorry.”

 

The computer slides off her lap as Hunk moves down to hug her, hushing softly. “I know, Pidgey, it’s okay.”

 

“No it’s not okay. It’s all my fault!” Pidge is crying in earnest now. Coran makes a sound of denial and Hunk pulls back to search her face, confused. It’s time to just admit it.

 

“I was too slow. Hacking the doors, I should have been able to tear through that code, you said it yourself! Instead I took so long opening the airlock that Lance got stuck. I’m the reason he didn’t make it in time for the lockdown. I’m the- the whole reason he’s been captured and t-tortured!!”

 

“Oh Pidge...” Hunk pulls her in closer.

 

As she cries into the Yellow paladin’s shoulder, Coran clears his throat before speaking. “The Galra have had thousands of years to perfect their security code, and their systems are a challenge to even the most advanced technicians. The fact that you were able to get those doors open at all, and under fire no less, is a testament to your skills as a paladin.”

 

Pidge sniffles. “But how could Lance choose to stay behind? How am I supposed to watch him choose us over himself like that? Doesn’t he know how much we need him?”

 

“You and I both know how much Lance loves his family,” Hunk says. “And now that family includes all of us.” He shakes his head, letting out a heavy breath. “It’s not easy knowledge to come to terms with, but Lance will protect his team over himself every time. That’s just who he is.”

 

“The bond between the paladins of Voltron is said to burn stronger than a hundred deep space quasars,” Coran starts. “I can’t claim to understand how you feel right now, but I do know a bit about learning the Blue paladin was willing to trade his life for yours.”

 

The bomb. When the Galra drone destroyed the core crystal, Lance had protected Coran first and himself second. Pidge has never thought about how much that must weigh on the older Altean. In that moment, she catches a glimpse of the intense concern and grief trapped behind his strained smile.

 

“I can tell you this, though: Lance’s loyalty is not something to be taken lightly. The best you can do is appreciate such devotion and strive to protect him just as fiercely.” Determination shines in Coran’s eyes again. “We ought to prove ourselves deserving, don’t you think?”

 

The words leave the two paladins blinking up at him, a little overwhelmed by the touching sentiment. Coran is right, of course. Lance was willing to sacrifice everything for his team. It’s time to fight for him just as hard.

 

Pidge was so wrapped up in guilt that she nearly ran herself into the ground trying to make up for it. “Thanks, Coran,” she says softly, and Hunk pulls her to her feet.

 

“Now what-say we grab these cables and make our way to the bridge, hm?” the Altean says. “You’ll teach Hunk and I what we’re looking for, and then we can work in shifts while you get some shuteye.”

 

“That sounds great,” the Yellow paladin agrees, clapping Coran on the shoulder and scooping up some blankets from Pidge’s bed. “You should just crash there too, that way we can wake you with any questions. It’s usually more calming to be around friends anyway.”

 

_With an added bonus of keeping the nightmares at bay._ Apparently she’s not the only one having trouble sleeping these days.

 

Giving the other two a small reassuring smile, Pidge scrubs the last of the tears from her face and gathers up her laptop to relocate. It’s time to start her search again.

 

It seems like that’s all she’s been doing since she entered the Garrison. Back before the Galra, before Voltron, before their feet ever left Earth’s surface... Pidge has been searching. Trying to locate her father, her brother - and dreaming of how good it will feel when she finds them.

 

Because she **will** find them. And now, she has another family member to save.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love you all so very much, this is such a blast to write ♥
> 
> Next chapter: Shiro gathers the team as they try to move forward, desperate for a lead to Lance's whereabouts.


	7. Trojan

Shiro’s footsteps echo as he walks through the halls alone. It seems like everything has been echoing lately, the castleship too big and filled with silence.

 

He pokes his head into the kitchen, deserted except for a few plates of goo sitting untouched. If they’re going to keep skipping meals like this, Shiro may have to start ordering the team to eat. He keeps searching.

 

The only thing worse than losing Lance has been living with it. The Blue paladin’s absence stings like a cut and gets worse every day. Stepping into the lounge, Shiro scans the empty couches and scrubs a hand over his face. Nothing. He returns to the hall, heart heavy in his chest. Well, he hasn’t checked the north wing yet…

 

As the Black paladin rounds the corner, he’s nearly collides with Pidge, her arms loaded with cables and a laptop. She looks exhausted, but there’s more life in her eyes than Shiro has seen in days.

 

“Oop, pardon us Shiro! Sleepwalkers en route,” Coran’s voice rings out. The Altean is carrying a bundle of pillows, and Shiro realizes the walking pile of blankets is Hunk.

 

“Hey guys, it’s… good to see you out. What’s all this?” Shiro asks.

 

Hunk shifts the blankets in his arms to a more manageable height. “We finally talked Pidge into a nap. Gonna keep scanning transmissions though in case we can catch any Galra chatter.”

 

It’s a thin thread to chase, but it seems they have nothing else. Shiro won’t stop them.

 

“That’s good to hear. I know it’s hard, but we all need to try our best to get sleep where we can.” Shiro remembers his own task. “Hey, have you guys seen Keith by the way?”

 

Their faces fall. None of them are handling Lance’s absence well, but seeing the usually vibrant Red paladin so listless has made a bad situation even worse.

 

“Not recently, sorry,” Pidge says. “Have you checked the bridge?”

 

“Not yet, no. Is that where you’re headed?”

 

Coran steps closer and pushes his armful of pillows toward Shiro. “The very place! Why don’t you make sure these two get where they’re going and I’ll go fetch the Princess from her chambers? I’ll keep an eye out for our missing member along the way.”

 

Shiro is grateful for the suggestion. When she’s not searching, Allura has been locked away in her room more and more. The whole team could benefit from some time together, instead of isolating themselves to settle into their grief.

 

Really, the leader of Voltron should have thought of it himself. It’s a good thing someone here is able to hold themselves together through the sadness.

 

“That’s a great idea, Coran, thanks.” Shiro takes the pillows and the three paladins continue down the hall toward the bridge.

 

The silence isn’t awkward, but it aches.

 

“So… how are you guys holding up?” Shiro ventures. He needs to look out for his team, not just get lost in his own head.

 

Hunk glances over with mournful eyes as Pidge offers a quiet reply. “Not well. But we’ll find him.” The Yellow paladin sniffles and nods in agreement. Shiro is reminded of just how strong these kids are.

 

They’ll find him.

 

As they reach the bridge, the sound of distorted talking reaches their ears. The door slides open and their eyes settle on Keith’s tense form hunched over a monitor, glowing light bouncing off his cheeks as he stares down. The paladin looks glazed over, barely seeing whatever it is he’s examining.

 

The sound of crackling lightning comes from the display, and Shiro realizes what’s playing on the screen. _Oh Keith, no. Don’t do this to yourself._

 

“Dude, what the hell?” Hunk starts. “How can you… watch that again??”

 

The Red paladin looks up in shock, quick to wipe at his eyes when he realizes there are others in the control room.

 

Keith’s voice is weak when he speaks, unsure in a way that makes Shiro want to hold him close. “I just- I just thought maybe there would be something. Anything. That… could tell us where he is right now.”

 

Hunk’s indignation melts away when he takes in the heartbroken paladin before him. Pidge deposits her pile of tech on the floor and walks in to wrap herself around Keith in a hug.

 

He stiffens for a moment, then wilts into the embrace. Keith drops his head into the smaller paladin’s hair. “I just don’t know what to do,” he mumbles. “I don’t know how to help him, guys.”

 

His pain echoes in the hearts of every other paladin in the room.

 

“We’ll help him together,” Hunk says. “We’ll comb through every system in the universe until we find him, I swear.”

 

Pidge nods quietly into Keith’s side. “Whatever it takes,” she whispers.

 

“Wait! I’ll tell you!” The tinny sound of Lance’s voice rings out from the small screen, and Shiro walks forward to turn it off.

 

“...a really sweet couch in the north wing and Hunk swears the left cushion is more comfortable. Coran lets me use the star maps and Pidge hangs out there to work sometimes, and Ke-” Shiro pauses the video quickly, knowing what comes next.

 

“Wait!” Keith’s head shoots up from the hug, and Pidge pulls back in alarm as the other paladins freeze. “Star maps. Go back, go back.”

 

At their confusion, Keith stumbles his way out of the Green paladin’s arms and pushes Shiro out of the way. He fumbles through the video controls and starts a rewind.

 

“The star maps. Out in the desert, I used to stare up at the constellations every night.” His voice is frantic, out of breath as he tries to keep up with his own thoughts. “I’d always know exactly where I am in the world - _the stars!!”_

 

Keith smashes at a key to stop the recording, leaving Drevala frozen at the side and Uldek out of frame. There on either side of Lance is a crystal clear shot of the stars behind him.

 

“Can… can we use this?” The Red paladin throws a desperate glance to the other paladins gathered around the screen. Shiro swallows uncertainly. It’s just a small section in an infinite universe, trying to find the matching stars would take…

 

“I can do it.” Pidge sounds confident for the first time in days. “I can run a search algorithm for that exact pattern of stars. We’ll get thousands of results but we can still compare them manually.”

 

Hunk takes up the mantle. “The battleship may still be in the same system as when we attacked. Set the first search parameter for that area of space and then we’ll keep expanding it if we have to. That narrows your thousands to a few hundred at least, right?”

 

“Yes! And Hunk, if we combine it with the program the castle ship uses to find its own position in space, couldn’t we run multiple sector searches at once?”

 

Trying to find the matching stars would take... genius. Perhaps Shiro spoke too soon.

 

Allura and Coran arrive to the bridge and are immediately set upon by the Green and Yellow paladins, who hurriedly start explaining their plan and asking the Alteans about their star maps.

 

Keith and Shiro share a look. It’s a long shot, but it might just work. It’s certainly better than listening to radio signals for hours on the off chance that the Galra use an unsecured line.

 

“Good work, Keith.” The Red paladin sags in relief when Shiro claps a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

 

“I just... we need him home,” Keith admits quietly. “That’s all that matters now.”

 

He couldn’t agree more.

 

Coran steps over to the screen to examine the stars behind Lance, but right as the Altean’s hands touch the keyboard, Shiro sees a flashing warning appear on the holo display.

 

[ALERT: INTERNAL COMMUNICATION ARCHITECTURE COMPROMISED]

 

The whole team looks up in alarm as the warning spreads across multiple screens on the bridge. Allura runs to the control panel, and Pidge dives onto a keyboard to bring up a command prompt of Altean text.

 

A flickering purple symbol appears over the warnings, looking like a download or decompression of some sort. Of what, Shiro doesn’t know.

 

“We’ve been hacked!!” Allura yells, fingers flying over the keys.

 

[ALERT: FOREIGN CODEC ACTIVATED, ESTABLISHING VISUAL CONNECTION]

 

Pidge swears. “There was a worm, secret code hidden in the last distress signal- we didn’t think to look in time. The Princess has it quarantined, but the Galra have a direct link to the castle’s displays. Do I… do I cut it off?”

 

Hunk lets out a shout as the screen flashes to a shot of Lance that they haven’t seen before. The Blue paladin is strapped back onto the inclined table, leaning heavily to the side. Uldek stands beside him, giving orders and handing an empty syringe to one of the guards. The paladins freeze.

 

“What is this? Are they sending another recording??” Keith demands.

 

Lance is still gagged, but the audio feed just barely picks up on a wavering noise. Shiro realizes the paladin is humming to himself.

 

“No,” Pidge answers, looking up from the computer code in horror. “This is live.”

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leaving you on a huge cliffhanger, I'm so sorry. Next chapter is halfway done though so it won't be too long a wait!!
> 
> I’ve been reading up on how to use planting/payoff in fiction, so the last few chapters have been a wonderful time to lay groundwork references for things to come (like the castleship's positioning system or the armor on Lance's legs). There's lots of clues lying around so keep an eye out ♥


	8. Taunting

_“No... This is live.”_

 

The six of them turn back to the screen in dismay. Shiro wants to stop it, tell Pidge to terminate the connection and shut it all down, but… they’re desperate to see proof that Lance is still out there, still okay.

 

The broadcast shows that the Galra have him back on the restraining table, tilted up at an almost-standing angle with heavy magnets around his throat and wrists. The Blue paladin is humming weakly to himself through the gag, barely seeming aware of his surroundings as stars twinkle in the background.

 

The quiet sounds that slip past the harsh material on his face seem to offer some form of distraction. Shiro recognizes the song, vaguely - from hearing Lance sing it quietly to himself in the showers or when focusing on a task. It must be a melody from home.

 

Something comforting, Shiro hopes.

 

Vendek snarls for the prisoner to shut up, slamming the paladin’s head back against the metal stand. The humming stops briefly as Lance recovers from the blow, and the commander returns to his conversation with the guards.

 

When he starts up again, the song has switched to _It’s a Small World After All_ and Lance is clearly putting more effort into volume. Vendek bristles and tries to ignore the sound.

 

Shiro sweeps his eyes over the Blue paladin, who appears drawn and exhausted even as he needles at his captors. There are more bruises now, and a fresh cut scored across his cheek oozes a slow trickle of red. The flight suit is ripped in multiple places over Lance’s torso, the tattered fabric offering a glimpse of further damage beneath. A smattering of rusty brown stains stands out harshly against the white armor still on his legs. Dried blood.

 

The Black paladin’s chest constricts with a new wave of guilt. Shiro left him behind, and this is what happens to prisoners of the Galra. A slow torment, both physical and mental.

 

“He seems so tired,” Hunk says. The others murmur in agreement. “No, I mean I know that look in his eyes. He keeps... slipping into that glazed over expression, it’s like finals week last semester when Lance pulled two all-nighters. Wh-what’s wrong with him?”

 

Shiro examines the paladin on the screen again, trying to see past the physical pain that’s been etched onto Lance’s form. To see the slight shake in his hands, the heavy blinking every few seconds to refocus.

 

“He looks a lot like you guys did when you came in,” Keith says. “They… might not be letting him sleep.”

 

Shiro speaks up to confirm. “The Galra have done that to prisoners in the past. It makes them more susceptible to the druids’ methods. Throw them in a cramped cell, line it with glaring lights, set off loud noises whenever their victim drifts off… It leaves you off-balance like this, confused.”

 

 _‘You.’_ He bites his tongue, hoping the team doesn’t notice that he’s speaking from experience.

 

“Even if it’s not constant deprivation, any amount of sleep interruption would start having an effect over time,” Coran says sadly. “Human or otherwise.” Hunk makes a soft sound of sympathy, and the older Altean puts a hand on the Yellow paladin’s shoulder.

 

“But he’s so pale,” Pidge whispers. “He’s not just shaking, it’s like he’s fighting a shiver every few seconds. Jittery.”

 

Shiro hesitates. How much information is worth volunteering? Is it better not to know?

 

As if sensing his conflict, Allura looks across the bridge to meet the scared indecision in the Black paladin’s eyes. With a solemn nod, the Princess silently asks him to share - if he can. Cautiously, Shiro starts.

 

“One gladiator was... locked in a freezing cell for two days, after she lashed out at the guards. Apparently the druids wanted to study the effect of sub-zero temperatures on her species. She- she didn’t make it more than a few minutes in the arena after that.”

 

Pidge and Keith stare back in horror, while Hunk grits his teeth to examine the screen. Allura’s somber expression suggests the Alteans already familiar with their enemy’s methods.

 

“The shaking and instability might not just be from sleep deprivation. There’s plenty more the Galra can think of to- to weaken their prisoners.” It hurts to say it aloud, but Shiro needs them to understand. To be prepared.

 

Vendek walks forward, tapping a claw on the camera. “Broadcast confirmed,” a voice says offscreen. A curdling smile creeps across the commander’s face and Lance falls quiet as the Galra speaks.

 

“I see they’ve received our message! Bet they’ve been worried sick, hm?”

 

Lance huffs through his nose and glowers over the gag. The commander turns and grabs the paladin around the chin roughly, claws pressing into soft skin as he stares Lance down. Shiro sees Keith’s hands tighten against the control panel in anger. Every line of the Red paladin’s body screams _hands off._

 

After a few seconds of confrontation, Lance folds and flicks his gaze away. Vendek sneers, apparently satisfied, and releases his crushing grip.

 

“Now now, there’s no need for hostility.” He reaches up to the silver buckles holding the mask to Lance’s face. “We wanted you to be able to talk to your team, live and in person. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

 

A brief flash of hope lights up in the Blue paladin’s eyes, and the control room gasps as one. The sudden possibility of speaking to Lance nearly overshadows Shiro’s confusion. Why would they let him speak to Voltron?

 

The gag finally comes off and Lance works his jaw painfully. “You have ten minutes,” Vendek says, melting into the shadows menacingly. “They’re right there.”

 

Hunk is the first to speak up, voice uncertain, and the Blue paladin reacts to the sound with a jolt. Shiro feels his heart swell in anticipation - Lance can hear them. The floodgates break and the team starts shouting, calling out to their missing member.

 

“Lance! Oh my poor boy, what have they done?”

“Buddy, we’re here. We’re going to get you.”

 

The Blue paladin’s head swivels toward the sound of their voices, eyes searching desperately for the source. He seems lost, off-balance.

 

“Are you okay?? Where are you? We need to find you.”

“You’ve been so strong, Lance.”

 

He doesn’t answer, just blinks and furrows his brow.

 

“L-Lance? Can you hear us?”

“Lance we’re right here!”

 

At last, his voice croaks out from cracked and broken lips. “G-guys?”

 

A moment of celebration. The relief of hearing their teammate is a welcome comfort after days of doubt and misery. Then Lance speaks again, head tilting in confusion as he peers past the camera.

 

“What… what are you doing here?”

 

Multiple voices stumble to explain that there was a worm, a live broadcast from the Galra. That they’re coming to get him, soon, as soon as they can. The Blue paladin’s gaze shifts to fear and he tugs against his restraints, the weak effort clearly futile.

 

“S-shiro? Keith? Your lions, you can’t- Not like this, not for me.”

 

One by one, the room shifts into creeping concern. The tentative smiles fall from their faces and a few look back at Shiro in distress, as if their leader might understand what’s going wrong. The panic is contagious. _What is he talking about?_ Lance’s struggles die down as he glances to the left.

 

“Hunk? Don’t just… stand there, buddy, what’s… what’s going on? Guys?”

 

He raises his head to the camera and the paladins gasp. Lance’s pupils are blown wide, darkness swallowing up all but a thin ring of crystal blue. He looks overwhelmed, mind falling prey to some Galra poison.

 

Shiro reels as everything falls into place. The syringe, the live feed - it was all a setup. Lance heard their voices for a moment, enough words to trigger the illusion, and now the Blue paladin is wrapped up in phantoms of his friends.

 

As the figure on screen keeps talking, the team is overtaken by a horrifying realization.

 

Lance is hallucinating.

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s right we’re going for it. Please help me out, loves.
> 
>  ** _Question for the readers:_** What would be most upsetting for Lance to hear from each of his teammates? Something about home, their relationships, his role? We know he’s insecure, but the angst can run deeper than that I’m sure. What kinds of things does Lance *believe in* that would be devastating to have denied?


	9. Transfer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who suggested angst ideas in the comments: Y’ALL HAVE NO CHILL. 
> 
> Also I used the wrong name for my bad guy all last chapter and _nobody told me_

Lance huffs another breath around the gag, the oppressive heat of his cell making the air in his lungs heavy. A persistent drop of sweat tickles at his forehead, but they’ve gone back to cuffing his hands whenever the paladin is left alone.

 

The Galra have been taking him a bit more seriously ever since day three, when he pried some cables out of the wall and nearly hotwired the door open. Lance may not be as experienced an electrician as Hunk, but it was a lot like jumping his uncle’s old station wagon back home. Just a few more sparks and he could have…

 

His shoulder twinges with the reminder of how the Galra reacted when they caught him.

 

It’s hardly his only ache, though. Lance shifts to lean against the wall, hot metal offering some relief to the bruises on his back. The soldiers really did a number on him last time they dragged him out of the cell for a “session” with Vendek.

 

Each encounter leaves the Blue paladin battered and disoriented. His bayard is a recurring demand. Lance has no idea why the weapon is so valuable to them, but he’s stubborn all the same. Putting his head down and gritting against the pain has given Lance a rallying point.

 

_Not even a small victory for the Galra. They will get nothing from me._

 

When they aren’t after the bayard, his captors are probing for information. Their methods get worse when they take off the muzzle, when they’re after results. Answers to questions ranging from the castle ship's defenses to the team’s origins. The Galra even try ordering him to summon the Blue lion, using fists and claws and pain to push Lance into calling for her to save him. _Dios_ , he'd give anything to talk to his lion, his team - hear their voices just once.

 

Lance’s head swims dangerously as he moves to lay down, to curl up on his side in the tiny space between the cell walls. A cut on his side threatens to split open again and he winces.

 

When the commander’s threats and knives didn’t work, the druids had started poking around in his brain. Lance laid strapped to a table as the creeping tendrils of their magic prodded at his consciousness, glowing eyes trancelike around him. The gag could barely muffle his panicked screams the first time the witches’ twisted quintessence touched his mind.

 

The druids are looking for secrets - battle formations and paladin tactics - but Lance pushes his emotions to the front of his mind instead. It’s the strongest shield he’s got.

 

At first it was made of sturdy contempt, resistance bolstered by the confidence that his team was on their way. That Voltron would come for him.

 

But as the days passed, druids digging deeper each time, Lance found himself filling the cracks in his shield with whatever he had. Fears. Memories. Moments with his fellow paladins.

 

Eventually Lance was left with nothing to use but his insecurities, surrounding himself with cloying thoughts of abandonment and uselessness rather than risk revealing Voltron’s secrets.

 

Drevala’s laugh echoed in his head as she clawed through his flimsy defenses.

 

The paladin shivers, and the temperature in the cell shifts. Feeling the heat leech away is a relief at first, but Lance knows that soon the air will be prickling at his skin, cold making the gag contract across his cheeks and numbing the tips of his fingers.

 

He presses into the wall, trying to absorb the last few vestiges of heat before the metal gets too cold to touch. There’s no telling when they’ll switch to heat again. Lance suspects the Galra are learning he has a higher tolerance for hot than cold.

 

His head thunks softly to the floor, eyes slipping closed even though he knows sleep won’t come. The extreme temperature is just one of the many ways his captors torment him outside of their interrogation chambers. Not enough food, not enough water, not enough sleep.

 

Lance can barely keep track of how much time has passed in this windowless cell, and it’s starting to have an effect. The last few days have been spotty, blanks in his memory from when the pain got too great or when he passed out right there on the table from exhaustion.

 

Sometimes he blinks too slowly and finds that time has passed without him realizing.

 

His eyelids are heavy even now.

 

A sudden BANG outside his cell door makes the paladin jump, limbs tensing at the familiar sound of a soldier keying in the code outside. Lance doesn’t resist the hands that pull him through the doorway. He used to fight them, at first, but now...

 

He tells himself he’s saving his strength.

 

“Where to, sir?” one of the guards asks. “Off to the druid chambers?” Lance squeezes his eyes shut as the dizziness returns in a rush. _Not the witches, please please not again._

 

“No, bring him to the transmission room. Vendek says he has a surprise in store for Voltron,” comes the gruff answer. The two soldiers laugh about wanting to let off some steam with the commander’s favorite toy, jostling their captive down the hall. Lance’s attention catches on their earlier words.

 

The commander has plans, but what? The Galra haven’t had contact with Voltron since they broadcast that first recording demanding the team surrender their lions. Lance shies away from the memory, the thought of the team watching his interrogation. He can only imagine how painful that must have been for them.

 

 _Or worse, they didn’t care at all,_ a voice whispers. Lance rattles his head. Drevala had enjoyed that particular thought, dragging it across his mind to taunt him over and over. _Voltron would never turn over their lions, obviously, but maybe they aren’t even looking for you._

 

As the soldiers drag him down the hall, the Blue paladin realizes their destination. The glass room, the room with the stars, the room where they sent the last message.

 

No. Not again. They intend to use Lance against his team, hurt them through him.

 

 _Not happening, pal_. With sudden force that takes the guards by surprise, Lance throws himself to the side and knocks a Galra into the wall. He wrenches his other arm from the second soldier and takes off at a stumbling run.

 

Their furious shouts make Lance duck into the next hallway, staggering around the corner and overturning anything that might slow his pursuers. Eyes wild, he takes in the hall of identical cell doors, small windows mounted at chest height. More prisoners, innocent people. Maybe he can...

 

Lance forces himself forward, one of his legs giving out as he grabs at a door. The druids had been experimenting, shocking different limbs to see how the nerves react, but Lance will drag himself out of here if he has to.

 

The paladin stares into the cell frantically, catching sight of a slim green-skinned figure on the floor. At the sound of Lance hitting the metal, the cell’s occupant looks up and surges to his feet. He’s about the same height as Lance, and the two lock gazes through the small window.

 

The alien’s purple eyes are wide with fear, concern not for himself but for the unknown paladin on the other side of the glass. The look reminds Lance of Keith, the Red paladin trapped inside the airlock after lockdown.

 

Lance starts tugging at the cell door, smashing shaking fingers into the keypad. He can- he has to help. The alien boy presses an emerald palm to the glass, peering over at Lance’s efforts even though they can both hear the guards clattering down the hallway.

 

Still muzzled, Lance can only let out a sound of helpless apology, tears stinging at his lashes. Some savior he is, battered and bloodied and unable to escape even on his own. The other boy tilts his head to catch the Blue paladin’s eyes again, completely calm. His expression is gentle when he speaks in a pretty, lilting voice.

 

“They will never break you,” he says, muffled through the glass.

 

It’s the first words of reassurance Lance has heard in days, and he stops to stare back at the stranger before him. Lance can’t answer past the gag, but he hopes his desperate look can reassure the boy too.

 

 _Never._ Solemn lilac eyes latch onto his, not breaking even when a Galra soldier slams Lance bodily into the cell door before pulling him to the ground. A boot stomps down on his knee and Lance cries out in pain. The calm exterior slips away and the boy hits at the inside of his cell in a panic.

 

Clawed hands drag the Blue paladin away, back toward the room with the stars, and Lance hears the prisoner call out again. He’s right. Lance won’t let them win.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Next chapter:_ Lance talks to his “team” at long last, and the druids reveal they have more in store for him.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I have a lil writing blog now!! I’m using it to save fic inspo and pictures, and I only have one follower lol so i would love to find some Voltron mutuals ♥ I'm also an impulse writer so it may become a place for drabbles if you guys have any heartwrenching ideas?  
>  **Find me on tumblr as[tomminowrites!](https://tomminowrites.tumblr.com/)**


	10. Traitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [shows up a day late with ten pages of hallucinations and a starbucks mug]

 

_ Drip. _

 

Well, the gash on his side has reopened.

 

_ Drip. _

 

Maybe it’s a result of his haphazard escape attempt, but it’s more likely that the guards slamming Lance into restraints again is what did it. 

 

The slow trickle of blood collects at his hip, tapping softly onto the floor as it falls from the edge of his leg armor.

 

_ Drip. _

 

Lance is back in the room with the stars, magnetic cuffs pinning him to the metal at his back. After the heat of his cell, the open room sends goosebumps prickling across the skin exposed by his tattered undersuit. The Blue paladin shivers.

 

It’s not long before the thud of approaching boots breaks the silence. Vendek strides into the room, stopping in front of his prisoner with an appraising look. His inspection lingers over the many bruises and injuries, and Lance fights to keep the exhaustion off his face.

 

“You’re quite the sight, Paladin,” the commander says. “And here I thought we’d beaten this habit of escape attempts out of you.”

 

Vendek walks a slow circle around Lance, pausing to collect something from a tinkling metal tray.

 

“Perhaps we need to be a little more convincing.” The Galra returns, lips curled back into an eager grin. His expression makes the Blue paladin’s breathing speed up. Whatever happens next… Lance needs to be strong.

 

Only then does he sees the item clutched in Vendek’s hand. Yellow eyes gleaming, the commander lifts the syringe toward the captive paladin.

 

“A little gift from the druids, and a surprise for your friends.”

 

Pain in his side forgotten, Lance squirms and struggles anew, but the collar makes it impossible to move more than a few inches in either direction. The edges dig harshly into the soft skin of his neck as Lance frantically tries to cringe away from the needle.

 

The commander growls in frustration and uses a meaty palm to pin Lance’s head to the side, baring his throat. A claw slices a thin line across Lance’s cheek as the paladin continues to press back and struggle. The stinging cut only worsens as he pushes against the Galra hand.

 

Fighting is no use though. The jab of the needle makes Lance freeze, pulse rocketing when he feels a slight rush as the plunger is depressed.

 

And then there’s acid in his veins. 

 

Scorching, searing agony pours from the injection point, working its way through his body like a blossom of spilled ink. A keening whine slips past the gag as Lance clenches his eyes closed, tight enough to send white lights sparkling across his eyelids.

 

Vendek hushes him softly, a mocking parody of comfort, and removes the needle. The rolling wave fully saturates Lance’s body, and only then does the burning fade away to nothing. 

 

Nerves feeling raw, the Blue paladin cracks his eyes open again to meet the commander’s predatory look.

 

“And now we wait,” Vendek says, barely able to contain a fanged smile. He turns to the soldiers at the control panel. “Activate the worm and prepare for broadcast.”

 

The rest of his orders are a blur as Lance tries to get his breathing back under control. Wait for what? His mind is still recovering from overload, but otherwise there’s no more pain. The idea of another injection makes Lance quaver. He slumps against the restraints, too drawn out to hold himself upright anymore.

 

_ Drip. _

 

The soft sound catches his ears again, and Lance half expects to hear his blood sizzle when it hits the floor.

 

_ Drip. _

 

He pushes his attention away from the room, trying ignore the sick crimson metronome at his side. Lance grasps for the only comfort he’s had against the heavy silence of his cell. His quiet groan melts into a hum, notes eventually arranging themselves into a melody from home.

 

Lance thinks of Veradero beach, playing in the sand with his family. His sweet little niece sings along with him as they construct a lopsided sandcastle.

 

Humming buries the sounds of the room - his dripping wound, Galra chatter, the pulsing at his neck... The melody focuses Lance, lets his mind drift farther into the memory. The sand is warm beneath his feet, ocean rolling softly in the distance, and the bruises across his body seem to fade out at last. Soft whispers tickle at his ears, words incoherent but voices familiar.

 

The song is one his mamá used to sing, washing the dishes or rocking one of her grandchildren to sleep. Lance can almost hea-

 

A Galra hand slams his head against the metal stand with a bang. Lance is abruptly ripped back into the interrogation room as Vendek snarls for the paladin to shut up.

 

When the room stops swimming, Lance narrows his eyes vindictively. _ Oh, I’m sorry, was that bothering you? _ He launches into the most annoying song he can think of, and enjoys a glimmer of satisfaction when Vendek bristles at  _ It’s a Small World After All _ .

 

It’s a pointless resistance, but for a moment there... he had been home. Lance has never drifted so far before though, drifted that easily.

 

A headache thrums between his temples. He hears a faint mutter, but the words are slurred, gone too fast for him to catch.

 

The paladin shivers again, but his brain can’t quite keep up with the movement. Lance blinks slowly, growing concerned. His wound isn’t dripping anymore, but it’s only been a few seconds, hasn’t it? 

 

Shit. He’s losing time again, worse than before. 

 

“Broadcast confirmed,” a soldier says. Satisfaction creeps across the commander’s face, and he turns to address the room.

 

“I see they’re received our message! Bet they’ve been worried sick, hm?” Vendek taunts. Lance glares over the gag, struggling slightly to focus. The pounding in his head won’t go away.

 

Suddenly, Vendek grabs the paladin by the chin, staring into Lance’s eyes with a different fixation than usual. Lance returns the stare with fierce determination, but instead of seeing fury or confrontation, it’s almost as if the Galra is… examining him. 

 

Waiting for some sign.

 

A flutter of movement catches Lance’s attention. The Blue paladin shifts his gaze away from Vendek to follow the wisp of shadow in his peripherals… but there’s nothing there.

 

His body feels heavy, chest struggling against gravity with every inhale. The drumming in his head speeds up, and Lance belatedly realizes it’s his own racketing heartbeat.

 

The commander is speaking again, but Lance only catches it in splices. Instead he’s fixated on the subtle swirling at the edges of his vision, the quiet whispers from the empty corner of the room. For a second, he could have sworn he heard Shiro’s calm voice...

 

“...talk to your team, live and in person. Wouldn’t that be nice?” the commander finishes, dragging Lance back to the present.

 

The words send a spark of hope burning through the fog in Lance’s head. Voltron. Home. He just needs to see his team, just needs to talk to them one more time.

 

There’s pressure at the side of his face, buckles on the muzzle unclasping. Finally,  _ finally _ , the material peels away and Lance takes a deep inhale, cold air sweet on his tongue after hours of nothing. 

 

“You have ten minutes,” Vendek murmurs, stepping back. “They’re right there.”

 

Lance breathes softly, body tensing instinctively. This is usually when the pain starts, after they remove the gag. But…

 

“L-Lance?” A tentative voice drifts across the room, louder than the previous whispers.

 

His whole body jerks in surprise.  _ Hunk?  _ They’re… they’re really here, familiar voices calling to him. The room seems to tilt dangerously as he searches, roving eyes trying to pin down the source of the sound.

 

“Are you okay?? Where are you? We need to find you.”

“Have you been strong, Lance?”

 

The Blue paladin blinks in confusion at the last question.

 

“Answer me, Lance. Can you even hear us?”

“Lance we’re right here!”

 

The voices come closer and he scrambles to answer, throat scratchy from disuse. 

 

“G-guys?” he croaks.

 

Shadows shift in the corner of the room.

 

Lance struggles to focus on the two figures that step forward, and his head tilts in disbelief when he recognizes the silhouettes.

 

“What… what are you doing here?” he asks. The blurry forms sharpen slightly and Lance pulls at his restraints in growing panic. “S-shiro? Keith? Your lions, you can’t- Not like this, not for me.”

 

This isn’t right. They aren’t supposed to be here. A flash of yellow makes him look to his left, where Hunk waits solemnly.

 

“Hunk? Don’t just… stand there, buddy, what’s… what’s going on?” Lance doesn’t understand. “Guys?”

 

“I tried Lance, I really did.” His best friend speaks first, sounding close to tears. “I gave them Yellow, I gave them Blue... but the Galra wanted more, wanted the whole team.”

 

Lance blanches, struck numb in horror. He never even considered that the team would make that sacrifice, not for him. Relinquishing their lions wasn’t even supposed to be an option.

 

The Galra have Blue.

 

“Hunk. No, no you can’t have... Without Blue and Yellow there’s no Voltron!” Guilt floods in to fill the gaps, and he rattles his head in denial. “I’m not worth it, I’m not-”

 

Hunk stares down at him mournfully. “That’s what the others said too.”

 

The Blue paladin tenses. He looks up at Keith and Shiro, standing impassively across the room. They seem to flicker, moving closer between one blink and the next.

 

“Well? You’re not,” Keith says. “You seriously think we’d make that trade??”

 

“No, of- of course not,” Lance answers, heart crumbling even though he knows it’s true. He had still hoped they’d find some way... But no. “I know the lions are more important.”

 

“We’re never going to give the Galra what they want,” Shiro says. “Hunk convinced us to come rescue you - but I’m starting to reconsider.”

 

Lance struggles to raise his drooping head, muscles slow to respond even as panic begins like a cluster of sparks in his abdomen. 

 

“What? Why?” he gasps. “Don’t… don’t you need me?”

 

There’s shouting in the distance, tinny voices calling out desperately.

 

His head is spinning, thoughts slipping through his fingers as he tries to focus. Their words don’t make sense, they can’t leave him behind? Lance is part of Voltron, they’ll come for him. The team needs him back.

 

Shiro looks apologetic, but his voice is practical as always. “No, we really don’t.”

 

Oh.

 

“We thought we had no one else to pilot the Blue lion, so we were willing to put up with you. For the greater good,” Keith says. “But it turns out we were wrong. With you gone, Allura was able to step in as the Blue paladin.”

 

“If only we had known sooner, we could have made the change a long time ago. She’s already performing so well,” Shiro explains, a familiar fondness in his eyes as he describes the Princess. “It’s a relief to have someone actually able to watch our backs now.”

 

“You… you replaced me? But Blue-” Lance says, ashamed at how small his voice comes out.

 

“Keith is the one who found the Blue lion anyway,” Hunk interrupts. “You have to understand, buddy, Voltron is so much stronger now. The universe is in better hands.”

 

Lance can’t help but shrink in on himself. “I just… I thought I was part of the team. I know I need to do better, but I thought… you didn’t just see me as- as expendable.”

 

“Don’t you have any idea what you’ve done??” Pidge says, voice furious. The sudden appearance of the Green paladin startles Lance, but she steps forward regardless. “You told the Galra everything, you completely betrayed Voltron.”

 

Lance recoils. “No! No, I didn’t tell them anything! I would NEVER.”

 

He feels an echo of those elusive blanks in his memory. Lance thinks of sitting in his cell for hours trying to piece interrogations back together. To remember what happened after-

 

Oh god.

 

What if… what if he...

 

Lance squeezes his eyes shut past the sudden feeling of vertigo. His breathing is all wrong, gasping too fast, too shallow.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I don’t… don’t remember,” he pants. “It all hurt so badly, I couldn’t have told them anything. I j-just want to go home.”

 

Pidge shakes her head in dismay. “You’ll never go home again. You told them about Earth, Lance. The Galra are on their way to our solar system right now, and it’s All. Your. Fault.”

 

“No!” Lance chokes. He’s going to be sick, nausea rolling through his center. The voices of his teammates swirl around him.

 

“I knew we couldn’t trust him.”

 

“You tried to play hero and got captured, then sold us out.” 

 

“Now they’re going to kill everyone we’ve ever cared for. Everyone you love.”

 

Lance has a flash of Veradero beach again, bootprints stomping through sandcastles as Galra ships blot out the sun. The shrill screaming of a little girl.

 

“Not just your family,” Shiro hisses. “Hunk’s family, and Pidge’s mother too. The first thing the Galra will do is tell them how YOU failed them, Lance. How you betrayed us to the enemy.”

 

Hot tears blur his vision as the Blue paladin faces the accusing looks of his teammates. 

 

“I would never tell them about Earth. O-our families. I didn’t… I couldn’t have!!” Even to his own ears, Lance sounds less confident with every word. 

 

His eyes dart around the room, unseeing as he rummages through the scattered memories of his captivity. All Lance remembers is the pain. He was screaming, but did he talk? What did he say?

 

Lance doesn’t know. He could have told the Galra anything. “No no, oh  _ dios,  _ what have I done?”

 

“Pathetic,” one of the paladins scoffs.

 

The colors in the room whirl. 

 

Lance tries to focus on their faces, but the features keep shifting. He blinks heavily and fixates on a flash of red before the figure turns away.

 

“Keith!” he cries out. “No, don’t go, we… we make a good team, remember?”

 

The Red paladin gives a wistful smile. “You’re right. We were a good team,” he admits. 

 

Lance swallows tightly when Keith pauses. 

 

“But we’re better now, without you.” His face hardens. “I don’t need you in my shadow anymore, cargo pilot, and we both know you’ll never catch up.”

 

The words hit Lance like a punch to the gut. He’d often suspected as much but… to hear Keith say it...

 

The red warps and bends, shrinking down into a green figure.    
  


Lance’s throat constricts as he begs.

 

“Pidgey, please, my little  _ hermanita _ , don’t leave me here. We’ll hang out, play Space Raiders IV together again, we can-”

 

“ _ I’m not your sister,”  _ she cuts in with a disgust. “Don’t you dare say that. You think you could replace Matt?? You think I would ever choose you over him?”

 

Lance can only stare back in horror. “No, no I’m not trying to replace anyone- you’ll find him, I’ll help! We’re best friends, Pidge, please don’t go.”

 

“What kind of best friend keeps getting us into trouble like this?” Hunk’s voice comes from across the room. Lance whips his head around, confused. The Yellow paladin was beside him a moment ago. 

 

Hunk is leaving too.

 

“You’re so reckless. The whole reason I’m wrapped up in this war is because  _ you  _ led us out of the Garrison that night.” Hunk steps closer to point an accusing finger at Lance.  “I should be home. Home with my family and studying at school, not running after some sorry excuse for a friend.”

 

“You think I don’t know that?” Lance cries. “It was my idea to sneak out that night, and I’ll never be able to make that up to you. But Hunk I’m so sorry.”

 

When he looks up again, the two paladins are gone.

 

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” Lance whispers.

 

Only Shiro remains, sweeping his gaze over the Blue paladin. Their leader looks so disappointed that Lance wants to curl backward, but the shackles hold him in place, exposed.

 

“Think of Allura and Coran,” he starts. “How much they’ve lost. How strong they’ve been.”

 

Shiro’s calm voice grows impatient. “I was captured too. Did you forget that? Subjected to far worse than this, and I came out of it stronger.” 

 

“But you,” the Black paladin scoffs. “You spend a few days here and you join the enemy.”

 

“No! I didn’t want to… I’d rather die than tell them.” The aching wounds across his body a reminder of how hard he fought to resist.

 

“Traitor.”

 

Lance jolts like he’s been shocked. His next words come out in a sob.

 

“ _ It hurts _ , everything hurts so badly Shiro, I’m sorry. I just want to go home to the castle ship.” Tears burn their way down his cheeks, falling all the way to the floor when Lance hangs his head in defeat.

 

_ Drip. _

 

“Please,” his voice cracks out. “Please don’t leave me behind.”

  
  


The room sways, and his mind dips with it into unconsciousness.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to [Hedgehog](https://hedgehog-lover-1.tumblr.com/) and [Jeena](http://jeenalight.tumblr.com/) for their firsthand accounts of hallucinations, and [Naoko](http://naokosdarkmusical.tumblr.com/) for proofreading. Not to mention everyone who gave such heartbreaking angst in the comments ♥ 
> 
> If you're interested in helping with the story or sharing drabble ideas, [let me know on tumblr!!](https://tomminowrites.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Your glorious suggestion didn't make it into this chapter?  
> Never fear... this is just part one of two~  
>  **Next Chapter: The serum has not worn off yet, and the Galra step in - all while the team watches in horror.**


	11. Torment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [Hoe-is-Me](https://hoe-is-me.tumblr.com/) for proofing this chapter!!

 

A familiar twist of quintessence touches his mind and Lance lunges upward with a gasp, vision twirling around him. The force of his awakening makes the magnetic collar dig into the paladin’s throat. Did he… pass out?

 

Lance struggles to regain his bearings. His muscles are tense, eyes sore and puffy from recent tears. From watching his team turn away.

 

When he looks up, there are just three figures in the room. The details are blurry, tinged dark purple until the colors shiver back into place. Red. Black. Yellow.

 

They haven’t left yet. He doesn’t deserve it, but they’re still-

 

“Focus,” a hostile voice commands.

 

Lance drags his mind back into his aching body as Shiro strides toward him. He grabs the Blue paladin by the neck with his right arm, and Lance dimly registers that the usually cool prosthetic is warm.

 

“What do you see?” The Black paladin’s words are rough.

 

Lance furrows his brow in confusion. “S-shiro?” he asks uncertainly.

 

“Good.” Their leader leans closer with a glare. “I’ve ordered Voltron to retreat. We’re going now, with or without you. If you want to leave so badly, you need to pull your damn weight and be ready to fight.”

 

The magnetic restraints deactivate, and Lance falls forward. Shiro doesn’t catch him.

 

When the Blue paladin’s knees hit the floor, his vision jolts along with the impact. For a second, dark boots stand in front of him, but then Hunk is there, telling Lance to pull himself together.

 

Keith activates his sword and levels it at Lance. The motion looks… wrong. His grip on the weapon is off somehow, none of the balance the Red paladin usually has when holding a blade. “You don’t even have your weapon. Stop acting useless.”

 

Lance hunches in shame, reaching to the armor on his legs.

 

He’s already slowing them down, a useless paladin. His fingers brush over the armor on his legs. All Lance needs to do is think it and the bayard will materialize with a flash.

But something makes him hesitate.

 

“You’re a paladin of Voltron,” Hunk says above him. “It’s time to fight. Summon your bayard.”

 

Yes. He needs to join the team, prove he’s able to fight alongside them.

 

_‘Summon your bayard.’_

 

The command echoes in his head. He’s... he’s not allowed. Lance’s brows crumble as he strains to remember. Why can’t he?

 

_Not even a small victory for the Galra. They’ll get nothing from me._

 

They want his gun, he… he can’t. Don’t activate it. Lance clenches his fist.

 

“Can’t you even summon your weapon?” the Red paladin snarls. “Stop being so weak. You’re pathetic and the whole team knows it.”

 

Lance flinches. “I’m sorry. I… Keith, I thought we-”

 

“We?” the other boy says in disbelief. Keith’s expression falls into a sneer. “There is no _we_ , you idiot. You decided to play hero, and for what? Trying to impress the team? Trying to impress me?”

 

He laughs and crouches in front of Lance, narrowing his eyes as his voice drops. “I will never care about you. Your only purpose is to fight and die for Voltron.” Keith scoffs. “When you got captured, _I_ _didn’t even look back_.”

 

The words send ice through his veins.

 

Lance’s heartbeat freezes in his chest, the chill spindling across his body to numb his fingertips and frost his breath. Keith doesn’t look away, lilac eyes locked to frozen blue.

 

Until... Lance remembers. Remembers the glow of lockdown lights, the pounding boots of Galra soldiers behind him. Pouring every bit of himself into one last smile.

 

A moment of perfect clarity, burned into his mind - Keith staring back through the glass in horror, heartbroken and looking more scared than Lance has ever before seen the Red paladin. Emotions clear on his face.

 

“T-that’s a lie,” Lance grits out. “I saw you, I saw him in the hallway, after the… the airlock seal. He cared.” The Blue paladin struggles to his feet, shuffling backward as the ground seems to roll beneath him. “No matter what else you say, **he cared**.”

 

The Red paladin’s expression twists in anger at Lance’s words.

 

Lance shakes his head slowly, confident in his denial. “You’re not the real Keith.”

 

Shiro pushes forward and swings a fist into the Blue paladin’s face. Copper bursts across his tongue as Lance meets the floor again. It certainly feels real.

 

“Summon your bayard, scum.” The Black paladin draws back for a kick, and Lance’s vision shimmers as he looks up at Shiro. A familiar set of glowing yellow eyes stare back.

 

“ _Vendek,_ ” Lance hisses. There’s no disguising the malice in the Galra commander’s gaze.

 

“It’s wearing off,” not-Keith says.

 

Hunk’s voice is layered with a growl. “Hit him again, get the damn weapon.”

 

It’s all a trick. Lance slaps his hands to his ears, rocking over his knees. “Get out of my head!”

 

One of them steps forward to hit him again, but Shiro- _no,_ _Vendek_ grabs the Yellow paladin’s arm. The image shifts into double vision, figures blurring like an out-of-sync holo-vid.

 

“Get Drevala,” Vendek snarls at the Galra soldier that used to be Hunk. “Now!”

 

Lance lowers his eyes again and tries to focus, grip pressing to his head as if he can squeeze his brain back to rights. He’s on the battlecruiser, the commander injected him with something. It’s an illusion, he has to break out.

 

“Lance, FIGHT IT.” The Blue paladin’s head snaps up at the sound. That’s Keith, the real one, it has to be. No illusion could mimic the ferocious curl to his voice, the confidence that rings with the command. Like he knows Lance can win this fight.

 

The Blue paladin is hit with the memory of an emerald hand pressed to a cell window. _‘They will never break you,’_ whispered through the glass. The Galra had released his restraints to get at his bayard, thinking he was too weak to fight back.

 

They thought wrong.

 

Lance shoves himself upward, rising to face his captors. The floor rocks like an untethered raft, but the Blue paladin abandons balance in favor of momentum. He lunges toward the Galra masquerading as Keith, throwing an elbow up to smash into the taller figure’s face.

 

A chorus of cheers echoes from the transmission speakers. They’re still connected - the team is with him, yelling words of encouragement.

 

Adrenaline floods Lance’s system, scorching away the rest of the drug. The red figure in front of him fizzles away to reveal the Galra beneath, still stunned from the blow. With a ragged yell, Lance kicks the imposter’s knee to the side, sending the soldier crashing to the ground when that leg gives out.

 

“Behind you!” Hunk yells.

 

Lance rounds on the other Galra, the one who wore the Yellow paladin’s face. The room dips as he ducks below the soldier’s incoming fist, scooping up the sword not-Keith had brandished. The weapon is unfamiliar in his hands, but the weight of it centers Lance as he stares down his enemy.

 

The soldier charges toward him with a snarl, and Lance brings the blade up in a diagonal sweep he’s seen Keith perform a thousand times. The answering shriek of pain means he’s hit something, at least, and the Galra staggers to the side.

 

Pidge is calling out, “Go, Lance, run for the door!”

 

Yes, door. Where was that again? The Blue paladin’s energy falters for a moment, exhaustion gnawing at his heels. He needs to go, before more guards come running, before he blacks out. Needs to find a way back to his team.

 

As he turns, the cuffs on his arms activate again, snapping together at the wrist and shaking the sword from his fingers. Lance stumbles with a cry of shock.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” a voice growls. Lance looks over his shoulder to see Vendek storming back, reinforcements and lead druid at his side. The guards snatch Lance around the shoulders, hauling him toward their commander as Drevala advances to scrutinize the paladin.

 

“It appears he’s more resistant than we thought,” she says. The witch examines him, intrigued rather than frustrated at the unforeseen challenge. “Human social bonds are more… intricate than expected.”

 

Vendek has no such fascination. “Fix it!!” he commands, furious glare pinned on Lance.

 

“We’re here with you, Lance, don’t be fooled!” Coran calls over the comms. “Only cowards would try such a dirty trick. You’re a strong lad.”

 

Lance fights back, wrenching his arms against the soldiers’ grip. He needs to be with his team. Drevala steps closer, her hand deathly cold when it presses to Lance’s forehead.

 

“What your team doesn’t realize is that this transmission has allowed our ships to converge on the Castle of Lions,” she murmurs. “You have provided an excellent distraction, little blue.”

 

“Don’t listen to her, we’re fine,” Allura says. The druid’s hand squeezes tighter. “All proximity scans show norm-” the Princess’ voice cuts off with a cry of pain. A noxious, creeping wave of magic blankets Lance’s mind, and Drevala’s lips curve into a pleased grin.

 

Allura begins shouting over castle alarms while the background fills with screams of agony, his teammates crying for help. Shiro frantically calls orders, warnings futile as the paladins fall under fire.

 

“Lance we’re- we’re under atta… AAH, we’re under attack, they’re using… some kind of…” Hunk lets out a groan. “Make them stop, you have to make it stop.”

 

“What’s happening??” Lance asks, eyes flitting across the screens on the wall, desperate for a glimpse of the castleship. “What are you doing to them? Keith! Hunk??” The wailing continues, their voices pleading for help.

 

“Shields are down, multiple hull breaches. We need- augh, we need to evacuate, Princess,” Shiro says, strained. “The others can’t take much more of this. H-Hunk you have to stop the bleeding.”

 

Pidge is crying, little whimpers of pain. Lance’s breathing skips, panic throbbing between his ears as he struggles against his captors. “Stop it, stop hurting them oh god. Pidgey please don’t cry.”

 

“The Galra t-took us completely by surprise,” Keith pants. “The lions, we… we need to get to the lions before more soldiers board. No, I can... I can still walk.” Retching noises carry over the comms.

 

“Please, please I’ll do whatever you want,” Lance pleads. Desperation leaves no room for shame and he begs. “Just call off the attack. Don’t do this. No more, please _no más.”_

 

The commander pauses, seeming to enjoy watching the wide-eyed paladin. Lance writhes harder, shoulders straining against their sockets as he tries to throw himself to his team, do anything to help. Finally, Vendek reaches out to deactivate the wrist cuffs.

 

Lance knows what they want. He drops his arm, swallowing thickly as his fingers hover over his armor. Trade his bayard for the team. Fine, anything.

 

“Please Lance, make it STO-”

 

Their screams fall silent with a jolt, leaving only a buzz like the flat line of a heart monitor. His hand freezes in place as Lance feels his chest constrict, breath squeezed out of his lungs.

 

“Voltron has terminated their stream,” a Galra soldier announces from the communication panels.

 

They’re gone.

 

“Your bayard!” Vendek snarls, shaking the listless Blue paladin. He can’t react, doesn’t bother. The team is under attack, fighting… suffering while he just sits here. Lance barely feels it when the commander slams him into the wall with a clang.

 

“Pity. Just a few more seconds and you might have had it,” Drevala says. “You’ll get nothing from your captive now. He’s in shock.”

 

“No. We can still make him talk,” the commander says. The Galra pauses. When he looks back at Lance, he has regained a menacing control. “There are plenty more ways to get what we want. Perhaps he would trade the bayard for something else he holds dear...”

 

Vendek slowly tilts Lance’s face side to side. “This one has unique eyes for a human, correct? Such a lovely shade of blue.” The Galra smiles at the sudden terror that clouds the paladin’s expression.

 

Lance thinks of the experiments, the needles and tools and devices of the druid chambers. They can’t take his eyes. Voltron’s sharpshooter, hours of training as a marksman. Lance will be no use to the team without...

 

“Or maybe we’ll just use you for entertainment, hm?” Vendek rumbles, hand tightening around Lance’s throat. He shifts in distress at the commander’s bloodthirsty look.

 

“You granted me control over the prisoner in exchange for the serum,” Drevala interrupts. The commander’s yellow eyes narrow as he glances back at the druid. “This is my chance to surpass Haggar. When the Champion escaped, we lost our primary cybernetic candidate. We’ve used other bipedal prisoners for primary testing, but the Blue paladin will work nicely for the next iteration of limb replacement. Humans have such… sensitive nervous systems, after all.”

 

Lance’s hand twitches at his side, phantom energy tingling down his leg as he remembers the shocks they had administered. The druids weren’t just studying his reactions, his reflex rate. They were preparing.

 

“Take him to the labs,” the druid orders, turning away. The buzz of the empty comm line cuts through the silence. “And shut down that transmission, you imbeciles.”

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions for paladin reactions are always welcome!! Plus I'm always plotting with people on [tumblr](https://tomminowrites.tumblr.com/) if you want to buddy up ^^ Also taking a poll in the comments as to whether I should let the druids get their claws on Lance, what do you think?
> 
>  **Next chapter:** The team was watching. Now, they take action - and race against the clock.


	12. Triumph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story jumps backward, showing the team’s perspective of Chapter 11. They have just watched Lance’s first round of poison where he hallucinated the team. Now the transmission continues as the Galra attempt to impersonate the paladins when Lance wakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your patience. I’m back baby ♥

_._

 

_._

 

_“Please. Please don’t leave me behind.”_

 

The Blue paladin’s desperate words echo in Keith’s mind as he stares unblinking at the unconscious figure on-screen. Watching Lance talk to air had been unnerving enough, but then to hear him beg his teammates not to abandon him? To hear his voice crack between words as he wept and _pleaded_ for rescue? Suffocation had clawed at Keith’s throat until Lance finally, mercifully passed out.

 

And yet the transmission continued, Lance’s form slumped forward and silent; the Red paladin still can’t seem to catch his breath. All he can do is stare.

 

“-eith?” a gentle voice interrupts. Allura’s hand touches his elbow and he startles. “Keith, are you… okay?” She meets his eyes with a mournful look.

 

“I’m fine,” he lies, pulling his focus back to the room. Pidge is typing furiously at a nearby control panel, a red-eyed Hunk at her side. Shiro remains staring up at the screen in a daze, the haunted look in his eyes one that Keith has only seen on particularly bad nights. “What’s going on?”

 

“Lance has only been out for a few minutes, but we have no idea how long it’ll be before we lose the connection,” Allura explains. “Pidge is scrubbing through the code from the Galra bug to try and get some kind of trace on the broadcast. Obviously Lance isn’t… he hasn’t been hearing us. But we don’t know whether the Galra have muted us or if the transmission has been limited in some other way. Or... ”

 

She doesn’t mention the other possibility of Lance’s condition. That his mind is so deeply consumed by the poison that the Blue paladin can’t hear the team’s voices over the sounds of his hallucinations.

 

It had started with conjurings of the other paladins - no doubt the people Lance wanted to see most - until the whole thing spiraled out of control to prey on the Blue paladin’s most well-hidden fears. Even only hearing one half of the conversation, Keith has a clue. The whole team does.

 

Uselessness. Betrayal. Abandonment. Lance had begged them not to trade the lions for his safety, told them he wasn’t worth it. And the hallucinations agreed. Replaced him, even. Based on the captive paladin’s reactions, the illusions had lied to his face and Lance had just… apologized. As if he deserved it. As if he could really believe his friends thought this of him.

 

And then the team had to watch the panic on the Blue paladin’s face at the thought of the Galra heading to Earth. It wasn’t true, it couldn’t be; Voltron would have noticed any hostile movement in the direction of their home planet. But Lance had no way to know that - to know that he hadn’t betrayed anyone.

 

Yet what scared Keith the most was that Lance couldn’t seem to remember whether or not he had told the Galra such high-stakes information. His confusion, his fear, was not just the work of the poison in his veins. The Blue paladin was dangerously unstable already... exhausted, hurting, alone.

 

What had Lance been enduring to lose track of whole chunks of his captivity?

 

Shiro lets out a soft noise of concern and Keith snaps his gaze back to the screen just in time to see Lance stir with a quiet groan. The rest of the room startles to attention, but the paladins aren’t the only ones to notice the shifting captive. Vendek steps into the camera’s range, gesturing for two soldiers to move in to flank him.

 

“The second wave should be taking effect now,” the commander mutters, stalking closer to loom over his captive. “If the druid’s work is to be trusted, the subject will be receptive to phantom imprints. Stick to the plan.”

 

Keith feels the team tense up around him. _Second wave? Imprints?_

 

Lance suddenly jolts upward with a rattling gasp, restraints clattering painfully as he jerks against the metal. The clang makes Pidge flinch, but she still shuffles closer to the screen. They’re all trying to get a glimpse of his pupils, trying to see what state he’s in.

 

“Lance, please, you need to focus,” Shiro murmurs, perhaps not even aware he’s saying it aloud.

 

“Focus,” Vendek echoes, as Lance blinks up at the Galra before him. The commander strides forward to grab the paladin around the neck. “What do you see?”

 

Lance glances around the room, clearly still disoriented. “S-shiro?”

 

The team perks up at that, an impossible spark of hope lighting up at the idea that Lance can hear them again.

 

“Yes!” Shiro bursts out in relief. “I’m here, Lance, we’re coming for you, I swear we would never leave you behi-”

 

“Good.” Vendek interrupts. Lance’s confused gaze locks onto the commander. “I’ve ordered Voltron to retreat. We’re going now, with or without you. If you want to leave so badly, you need to pull your damn weight and be ready to fight.”

 

Lance nods along to the instructions, looking up at the Galra with a blend of awe and desperate determination that’s usually reserved for...

 

Shiro draws in a startled breath of recognition, but Keith’s confusion only swells. What is Lance doing? This isn’t making sense.

 

“What’s wrong with him?” Hunk says, panic edging into his voice as the Galra release Lance’s restraints. He goes crashing to the floor, but makes no move to escape or fight back.

 

“Shiro,” Allura whispers. “Lance said he sees Shiro. They’re _using_ the hallucinations now, that’s what Vendek meant by imprint.”

 

Hunk shakes his head in horror. “He thinks we’ve come back to get him.”

 

On screen, the larger of the two soldiers steps forward, demanding in a harsh growl that the Blue paladin ready his weapon, pull himself together. Lance just hunches forward as if ashamed.

 

The other soldier unsheathes a long blade and directs it at Lance’s throat. Keith goes rigid as a chilling question enters his mind.

 

“...who are the other two?” he asks quietly. “Who else is he seeing?”

 

From the corner of his eye, Keith sees Pidge glance his way. There’s little doubt who this sword-wielding soldier is meant to mimic, but thankfully the Green paladin doesn’t voice her guess.

 

“You’re a paladin of Voltron,” the larger Galra snarls. “It’s time to fight. Summon your bayard.”

 

Six sets of eyes swivel to watch the trembling hand at Lance’s side, pale fingers brushing toward the activation area on his leg armor. Keith feels a whine grow in his chest. If Lance gives up the bayard now, if he turns the potential tracking technology over to his captors… The Galra will have no need for a hostage anymore. A smile curls on Vendek’s lips, but all Keith can focus on is the dip of Lance’s shaking hand.

 

The Blue paladin hesitates, expression crumpling into turmoil. Searching blue eyes dart across the floor, unseeing, arm frozen at his side.

 

“That’s it, m’boy. Don’t be fooled,” Coran urges, his voice the only sound amid a room holding its breath.

 

Lance’s hand closes into a fist, knuckles white from the force of it. Keith feels the air return to his lungs in a rush. The Galra have underestimated the Blue paladin once again.

 

The soldier with the sword snarls at Lance’s resistance. “Can’t even summon your weapon? Stop being so weak,” he spits out. “You’re pathetic and the whole team knows it.”

 

Lance flinches away. Keith feels his jaw tighten in anger at the hatred behind the words, at the idea of this Galra wearing Keith’s face to say it. As if the Red paladin could ever speak to Lance in that way.

 

But what’s worse is to watch Lance agree, to see him accept the treatment as if he always expected it would come to this.

 

“I’m sorry. I… Keith, I thought we-” Lance starts.

 

“We?” the Galra says in mocking disbelief. He leans closer with a sneer. “There is no _we,_ you idiot. You decided to play hero, and for what? Trying to impress the team? Trying to impress me?”

 

Keith’s heart clenches as the soldier kneels down, eyes narrowed to slits as he levels with the Blue paladin. His voice drops lower, all mocking gone now.

 

“I will never care about you. Your only purpose is to fight and die for Voltron.” Lance’s face pales, and the sword-wielder scoffs. “When you got captured, I didn’t even look back.”

 

Keith goes rigid. _No._

 

The denial pours from his lips unbidden, scorching his tongue as he watches devastation sweep over the Blue paladin. “No, nonono. Lance, you have to remember. That’s a lie. It’s all a lie.”

 

Keith curls forward, hands gripping the control panel with white hot intensity. “I care Lance, I care so much, I’m sorry you would ever doubt that. I should have… should have told you… I… that I... “ He cuts off with a choked sob. The Blue paladin is still frozen on-screen, ready to shatter. “ _Please, Lance. I should have been better. I failed you.”_

 

“That’s a lie,” a voice grits out. Keith looks up in a flash, just in time to see Lance come back to himself. “I saw you, I saw him in the hallway, after the… the airlock seal. He cared.” Lance struggles to his feet painfully, still unbalanced but looking firmer with every word. “No matter what else you say, **he cared.** ”

 

A swell of emotion boils up into the Red paladin’s chest as Lance slowly shakes his head, confident in his denial. “You’re not the real Keith.”

 

His revelation is answered with violence, a meaty paw sending the Blue paladin tumbling to the floor once again. But when Lance looks up at the Galra masquerading as their leader, he hisses out Vendek’s name. Shiro lets out a breath of relief. “That’s it, Lance.”

 

The Galra are furious, snarling to each other about the poison wearing off, demanding to hit their captive again. The team waits with a mixture of fear and hope as Lance claps his hands to his ears, curling up as if in pain. “Get out of my head!”

 

The commander orders the larger of his allies to fetch Drevala, but storms out of the room himself at the soldier’s hesitation. It seems Voltron aren’t the only ones afraid of the druids.

 

Lance still lies hunched over on the floor, clutching at his temples as he tries to regain his bearings. Keith’s pulse jumps as he realizes the chaos of the room, the uncertain soldiers waiting for the druid and commander to return.

 

Hunk steps toward the screen, muttering encouragement. “C’mon buddy. C’mon shake it off.”

 

An electric tension picks up among the rest of the team as they urge Lance on, whose heavy breaths send shudders across his shoulders.

 

There’s no time, he needs to move now. The roar of opportunity tears a fierce call from Keith, a command laced with the strength he knows Lance still has.

 

“Lance, FIGHT IT.”

 

The Blue paladin’s head snaps up at the sound.

 

Eyes clear for the first time since the broadcast started, Lance shoves himself to unsteady feet and lunges toward the nearest Galra soldier. The team is cheering now, hearts pounding as they watch Lance send the sword-wielding Galra crashing to the floor.

 

At first, Keith doesn’t recognize the sensation curling in his chest.

 

“Behind you!” Hunk yells. Lance rounds on the other Galra, ducking beneath a swing and scooping up the abandoned sword.

 

It’s something Keith hasn't felt in a long time, not since Lance was taken from them.

 

Lance slices the blade up in a diagonal sweep, a move so familiar that the Red paladin’s muscles echo with the motion. It catches the soldier across the side and chips into his shoulder as well, sending the Galra to the ground with a cry of pain.

 

Keith feels it tugging at the corner of his mouth, and remembers.

 

Triumph.

 

.

 

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to everyone who sent kind messages during the hiatus, and to redyarns and hoe-is-me for proofreading. You may also notice there’s a legit, real-deal _semicolon_ up there, and it’s all because minti-e has a magical red pen that made this whole chapter better :O
> 
> **Next Chapter:** The team watches Lance’s escape attempt… end.


	13. Trace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team watches Lance's sudden escape attempt and learns more about what the Galra have in store for the captured paladin. Voltron is desperate to take action, but they're running out of time.

.

 

.

 

From the first thrown elbow, Shiro recognizes this kind of fighting.

 

Lance’s strikes are nothing like the training they’ve been doing on the castleship, honing the paladins’ hand-to-hand combat. These movements are more natural, more ragged - rooted in the instinct that rises up when you’re backed into a corner to fight for your life. The Champion learned it well enough in the sands of the arena.

 

“He needs to go,” Shiro says. His heart clenches even as it soars, watching Lance make a desperate break toward freedom.The Blue paladin is no doubt running on adrenaline; it won’t be long before that precious resource is diminished.

 

“Go, Lance! Run for the door!” Pidge calls. Allura is breathless, Hunk wide-eyed at her side as the whole team shouts for their teammate to return to them. Lance falters, head scanning the room as he struggles to switch from fight to flight.

 

The metal door slides open with a hiss, and a tattered purple cloak catches Shiro’s eye. Drevala stalks into the room, with the commander storming ahead to press a button at his wrist. The buzz of handcuffs snapping together is somehow louder than Vendek’s growl, Lance’s cry of shock, and the hitched gasps from the team.

 

“No! He was winning!” Keith slams a hand against the paneling as the guards snatch their prisoner around the shoulders.

 

_Lance wasn’t winning - he was surviving,_ Shiro thinks. But watching the druid step forward to scrutinize her struggling captive, it starts to feel like the Blue paladin never stood a chance at all.

 

“It appears he’s more resistant than we thought,” she says. The witch examines him with an unsettling expression of curiosity. “Human social bonds are more… intricate than expected.”

 

Vendek snaps for her to “fix it”, as if Lance’s defiance is just a miscalculation to be brushed aside. The druid steps closer.

 

“We’re here with you Lance, don’t be fooled!” Coran calls over the comms. “Only cowards would try such a dirty trick. You’re a strong lad.”

 

Goosebumps prickle up the back of Shiro’s neck when Drevala presses a withered hand to Lance’s forehead.

 

“What your team doesn’t realize is that this transmission has allowed our ships to converge on the Castle of Lions,” the witch murmurs. “You have provided an excellent distraction, little blue.”

 

Allura’s hands hit the control panel, bringing up castleship security readings before the rest of them can even blink. She shakes her head at Shiro. “Don’t listen to her, we’re fine,” the Princess calls out. “All proximity scans show normal readings for empty space.”

 

The Blue paladin’s shoulders stiffen with a gasp, and the glow of the druid’s eyes illuminates a wicked grin.

 

“Lance we’re safe, we aren’t under attack!” Hunk tries. “She’s lying to you, using some kind of-”

 

“What’s happening?” Lance asks in a panic. “What are you doing to them? Keith! Hunk??” He throws himself forward, wrenching against his restraints. He’s reacting violently to something the others can’t hear - calling out to phantom voices and seemingly unaware of the magic user beside him.

 

“It’s a trick, some sort of illusion! Whatever you’re hearing, it’s not real,” Shiro says. “You have to shake it off!”

 

Lance lets out a desperate groan, struggling anew. “Stop it, stop hurting them, oh god. Pidgey please don’t cry.” Pidge hadn’t been making any noise, but the sound of Lance’s pleading makes her eyes fill up anew.

 

Lance begs the Galra to call off the attack, his words blurring together in a frenzy. “Please, please I’ll do whatever you want. Just call off the attack. Don’t do this. No more, please _no más._ ”

 

A soft whine builds in Hunk’s chest as they watch the Blue paladin twist against the soldiers holding him back, their friend openly begging for the first time since these transmissions started. Shiro wonders just how long it took the Galra to realize that threatening his team would be more effective than any pain they could inflict on Lance himself.

 

The paladins scramble to shout reassurance, trying to snap Lance out of the witch’s spell, but Shiro can’t take his eyes off the smirking commander on-screen. Finally, Vendek reaches out to deactivate the wrist cuffs.

 

Lance quiets, swallows tensely for a moment, then lowers his eyes to the armor on his legs. Surrendering his bayard means death, or worse, and Lance doesn’t even know the risk. But Shiro can see his face, see the cracks in the Blue paladin’s resistance as his friends cry out.

 

There’s no time; Shiro turns to the Green paladin. “Pidge cut the stream.” Confusion flickers over her fearful expression, the others still yelling, still trying to get through to Lance.

 

“Can’t you see we’re making it worse??” Shiro says, forceful now. The younger paladin’s eyes widen in understanding, and she dives for the control panel.

 

Lance’s arm drops, fingers hovering over his bayard’s activation area.

 

Pidge’s hands make contact with the keyboard.

 

Hunk and Keith get one more desperate call out over the sound of her rapid keystrokes. “Please Lance, STO-”

 

A flat buzz rings out, and the screen flickers erratically. The team falls silent, but the image soon stabilizes. “Voltron has terminated their stream,” a Galra soldier announces from offscreen.

 

Lance has slumped forward, blue eyes glossy and distant. Pidge keeps typing.

 

“What happened?” Hunk whispers.

 

“I disabled our outgoing signal without disconnecting from their half of the call.” Pidge answers without looking away from the code flashing across her monitor. “They don’t know we’re still listening.”

 

_And Lance is left to assume the worst._

 

“Your bayard!” Vendek snarls, shaking the listless Blue paladin. His head bobs back and forth, expression unchanged as he stares past the furious commander. Shiro winces as Lance is slammed into a metal wall.

 

“Pity. Just a few more seconds and you might have had it,” the druid says. “You’ll get nothing from your captive now. He’s in shock.” The lifeless look in those crystal blue eyes almost makes Shiro question whether terminating the stream was the right call.

 

“No. We can still make him talk,” Vendek says, pausing as if to compose his anger. “There are plenty more ways to get what we want. Perhaps he would trade the bayard for something else he holds dear…” Galra claws wrap around the Blue paladin’s chin, tilting Lance’s face side to side. “This one has unique eyes for a human, correct? Such a lovely shade of blue.”

 

Focus returns to Lance’s eyes, sharp terror pulling at his pupils when the commander’s words sink in. Shiro feels his heart stutter.

 

“Or maybe we’ll just use you for entertainment, hm?” Vendek rumbles, hand dipping to tighten around Lance’s throat, just above the magnetic collar. The possessive gesture pulls a near-growl from Keith, tensed and coiled beside Shiro.

 

“You granted me control over the prisoner in exchange for the serum,” Drevala interrupts. The commander’s yellow eyes narrow as he glances back at the druid. “This is my chance to surpass Haggar. When the Champion escaped, we lost our primary cybernetic candidate. We’ve been using the other bipedal prisoners for primary testing, but the Blue paladin will work nicely for the next iteration of limb replacement. Humans have such… sensitive nervous systems, after all.”

 

_No._

 

“Take him to the labs,” the druid orders, turning away.

 

A wave of vertigo sends Shiro spinning, vision wobbling as he tries to watch the soldiers collect Lance.

 

Pidge’s typing intensifies, hands skittering over the control panel as her time runs out. “Not yet, not yet…”

 

Drevala spares a glance for the camera, her dark features and fluttering robe echoing a thousand of Shiro’s nightmares. “And shut down that transmission, you imbeciles.”

 

The screen wavers, turns dark purple, and then… nothing.

 

Pidge swears, and Shiro’s heartbeat thunders in his ears. The team is left shouting around him, questions, denials, threats.

 

_Take him to the labs. Take him to the labs._

 

“We have to stop them, Pidge did you…” Hunk’s voice is pinched.

 

“I was close,” the Green paladin says, eyes still scanning through code. “I was so close to tracking the signal while the Galra weren’t looking. They’ve been bouncing it all over, satellite to satellite, but I could have found them. We just needed more _time_.”

 

_When the champion escaped, we lost our primary cybernetic candidate._

 

Shiro made the call to leave Lance behind. And now it’s Shiro’s fault twice over, as the druids continue the research he fled, using the Blue paladin in his place.

 

_What will they rip away from him? An arm? A leg? More?_

 

The Black paladin’s breaths are coming too fast, chest feeling deeper with each inhale and his flesh fingertips tingling toward numbness. He can’t catch up.

Allura places a hand on his shoulder, offering a warm point of contact to bring him back to focus.

 

“We cannot despair,” the Princess says softly. His next breath rattles a little slower, and Altean blue eyes lead him back to himself, back to the castleship command room.

 

Shiro looks away to find the whole team staring back at him with panic edging into their expressions. Keith seems ready to fold in upon himself, and Pidge still has tears of frustration on her lashes. Coran and Allura are no better.

 

But it’s the quiet fire from Hunk that shakes Shiro back into place; the Yellow paladin’s willingness to do whatever it takes - to pay any cost.

 

Time spent on anything other than _pushing forward_ is time wasted.

 

“When I was with the druids, they moved fast,” Shiro says. The blunt start is jarring, but he keeps going. “We need to move faster. It takes days to measure and test and build a replacement limb to attach. It’s not a lot of time, but it’s enough. What do we know?”

 

Pidge’s gaze dips in defeat. “I didn’t get much. It wasn’t a direct transmission, it bounced off so many planets in this galaxy alone…”

 

“We still have the stars from the first transmission, right?” Hunk offers. “If we’re going to use the castleship’s positioning system to scan for matching sections of space, that analysis is going to take a while. Longer if we have to scan the stars from the second video too.”

 

Coran speaks up from where he’s scrutinizing a frozen image on-screen. “Not quite. These are the same section of sky.” He gestures to a small blur of white dots in the corner. “See that triple-sun conglomerate? Quite the rare phenomenon, and one that’s present in both videos. I’d wager that the battlecruiser hasn’t moved since its first jump.”

 

“That gives us twice as many data points to run through the positioner!” Allura steps forward and pulls up both versions of the skies. Hunk and Pidge cluster around the panel, frantic energy poured into altering the code they need.

 

The stars are the only lead they have.

 

Shiro lingers a few paces away from the huddled paladins, grateful for a quiet moment of distance. Keith eventually inches toward Shiro’s side, glancing up for a moment to assess their leader.

 

“I know that guilty look when I see it,” the younger paladin says quietly. He stares ahead again before continuing, conviction slipping into his words. “But there’s no point blaming yourself when the Galra are the real threat here.”

Keith uncrosses and recrosses his arms, gaze unfocused as he searches for the right words. “Whatever they do to him, whatever they may take - Lance just needs to survive. You were strong enough to survive the labs, and he can too. All we need is to… get him back.”

 

Shiro swallows around the lump in his throat. “Just like you got me back.”

 

“Yeah...” Keith trails off. “No matter how hurt he may be, I’ll bring him back. As many times as it takes.”

 

They stand in silence, watching the others work.

 

.

 

.

 

Eventually, the flurry of discussion over the control panel stops and their new program is left to search. The castleship’s positioning system scans quietly above their heads, stars whirling by like spilled marbles.

 

There’s no conversation, nothing to say. All they can do is wait for the results.

 

.

 

.

 

Time becomes irrelevant until the hypnotic points of light freeze. A small grid pulses softly within the holomap, and the Green paladin shakes out of her daze to check the coordinates.

 

“The Amita star system. We found him.” Pidge sits back in her chair with a huff of breath, cramped hands dropping away from the computers at last.

 

“Long-range scanners show there is indeed a cruiser-sized ship in the area. We won’t know for sure until we get closer,” Allura says.

 

Keith straightens, ready to head to the lion hangar. Shiro holds up a hand to delay him.

 

“Hang on. How sure are we that these stars are a match?” he asks.

 

“Leaving room for error… about 70% sure,” Hunk answers. “But it’s the best match we have. We need to go. Now.”

 

Shiro scrubs a hand down his face. He hates to hesitate, but the team can’t dive in blind. That’s how they make mistakes, lose paladins. Again. “I’m ready to go as much as you are, I know, but it’s still too dangerous to re-engage based on what is essentially a well-researched hunch. We’re down a lion, and we don’t have time to chase a dead end.”

 

“And we don’t have time to sit around double-checking our only lead in days,” Keith counters.

 

Hunk opens his mouth to agree, but Allura steps in. “Even if we manage to win the fight, what if we attack the wrong ship? There’s no telling what the Galra will do to Lance to retaliate, and that is a risk we cannot take.” She pauses to let her words sink in. “We only have one shot at this.”

 

The bridge is silent, until Pidge speaks up.

 

“So we don’t attack the ship then. We attack the data.”

 

A series of blank looks prompts her to go on.

 

“The Galra don’t maintain an interconnected network, since it’s too risky to have all their data in one place,” she says. “But they do keep short-term backup on local planetary servers. It’s temporary storage, for nearby ships only, in case something happens to a vessel during battle.” A wistful expression crosses her face. “I’ve scanned through hundreds of those databases while looking for Matt.”

 

Hunk catches onto the idea first, nodding along as he goes. “So if Lance really is on the ship in the Amita system, then we would be able to find his prisoner file stored on one of the nearby planets. Or hell, we could just search for files referencing Vendek, or Drevala. Anything with their names on it means we have the right battlecruiser.”

 

“Exactly,” Pidge confirms. “I just need access to any Galra system in Amita.”

 

“And how do you propose we find a Galra base somewhere in that whole star system?” Coran asks.

 

Pidge swivels her screen, lips curling with a vindictive smile. “That last transmission that was bouncing around too much for me to trace? I didn’t make it to the source in time, but I got far enough that they’ve basically given me a partial map of the Empire’s satellites.” She points to a glowing dot on the galaxy map. “Here’s one orbiting Luyten, tenth planet in Amita’s ring.”

 

“And where there’s a satellite, there’s a Galra outpost,” Keith says. The Red paladin is clearly holding back the urge to rush out the door, sticking around to think things through only for Lance’s sake.

 

Shiro carefully turns their plan over in his mind, searching for flaws. “So we crash the Luyten outpost, search the local database for anything involving Vendek, and if we find it… we know for certain this is the correct battlecruiser?”

 

“That...” Allura blinks. “That could actually work.”

 

Finally, they have something.

 

His next breath is laced with hope, bolstered with the anticipation of taking action instead of waiting in dread for more clues. Shiro’s next order comes through strong and clear.

 

“Alright team. Suit up.”

 

.

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Minti-e, Redyarns, and Hoe-is-me for their invaluable proofing skills. ♥ Also shoutout to Keith-tron and Super-curiousnoisy-fox, and everyone else who responded on my tumblr post to suggest star system names for this chapter. Thanks for your help!!
> 
>  
> 
> **Next Chapter: Allura POV as the team chases down their lead.**  
>  Any insight on how Allura would handle things? I’ve never written her before and would love your suggestions :O


	14. Teamwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura and the team launch their attack on the Luyten outpost, desperate to confirm that Lance is aboard the nearby battlecruiser. However, the Galra files may hold more information than they bargained for.

.

 

The paladins fight with a viciousness Allura has never quite seen before. Their push on the Luyten outpost is focused and brutal with none of the usual banter that accompanies their battles.

 

Shiro’s orders are clipped and direct as Keith tears into target after target with no sign of slowing down. Hunk barrels his way through the outer guard, smashing multiple ships to pieces instead of bothering with a firefight. Pidge is silent.

 

It’s unsettling, but at least better than the alternative. When the paladins had first stepped into their lions, Allura thought the team may not be able to fly at all.

 

Hunk had let out a groan when they entered their pilot seats to power up the lions, bowled over by a wave of grief echoing through their mental connection.

 

“Oh god, who is that?” Keith asked painfully. “It feels like I’m getting crushed. Like I can’t- can’t breathe.”

 

“Yeah I’ve got it too. It’s, yeah it’s pretty overwhelming,” Shiro confirmed, letting out a hiss. “Princess, there’s some kind of… strain in the psychic link. I’m not sure if we’ll be able to attack like this.”

 

The two Alteans exchanged a glance across the bridge. If one of the paladins was compromised, they needed to adjust their plan immediately. Pushing aside her immediate concern, Allura tried to keep her voice level.

 

“Whoever is projecting, we need you to take some deep breaths,” she said carefully. “We’re going to get him back, alright?”

 

Pidge’s voice was small. “I… I think it’s Blue.”

 

_Oh._

 

The weight of it suddenly made sense.

 

Lance’s lion is grieving, aching to help her lost paladin. Blue is desperate to console her pilot as he suffers somewhere across the stars - and as the other lions grieve with her, their despair is sent lashing back through the team.

 

“I’m coming down,” Allura had decided, stepping off her platform to head toward the hangar. Someone needed to be with Blue.

 

“She misses him,” Hunk whispered. “It feels like... they’ve torn her heart away.”

 

Standing before the towering Blue lion, Allura could only wonder at the depth of emotion such an ancient mind could produce. It must be especially cutting to be so strong, and yet so helpless to save those she cares about. Maybe the princess and the lion had more in common than they thought.

 

“I’ve never felt a lion scared before.” Keith sounded lost, hidden away in his pilot seat as his own fears mingled with the overwhelming emotions of the lions.

 

Allura extended a hand to the Blue lion carefully, pressing her forehead against the cool metal. If she could just offer some comfort…

 

The sudden wave of anguish nearly made her knees buckle when their minds connected. Blue was _hurting._ The lion’s ancient memory was swamped with the loneliness of ten thousand years - and now, faced with the prospect of losing her pilot all over again, it was too much for her to bear.

 

Allura found herself blinking back tears even as she sent reassurances through their tenuous connection. _We will bring him home. I swear it._

 

One of the paladins had sniffled into the comms. “We hear you, Princess,” Shiro murmured. “And we will, Blue, we’ll get Lance back.”

 

One by one, soft eddies of resolve from each paladin poured across the mental bond. Hunk offered rock-solid fortitude, reinforced by Pidge’s gripping tenacity. The burning rush of Keith's determination was soothed by a flow of cool conviction from Shiro. As the current swept around her toward the Blue lion, Allura added a dose of fierce protectiveness. Together, their wills remind Blue that she and her pilot would never truly be alone.

 

The whirlpool of despair from the lion had slowly abated, and Allura let out a soft breath.

 

With the paladins no longer suffocating under her sadness, Blue gently pushed Allura’s mind back to herself. When the princess opened her eyes and stepped back, her hands were trembling from the connection.

 

But her grip is firm now, pressed over the castleship control panel while the paladins smash their way into the Luyten base. _Focus on the team,_ she reminds herself.

 

“We’re close enough to enter the base,” Shiro says. “Hunk you guard our six. Keith, clear a path.”

 

The Red paladin hits the ground at a roll, slashing immediately upward at the first guards he encounters. He’s down the hall before their bodies even hit the floor.

 

Pidge and Shiro make their way a short distance behind him, and the Black paladin punches a fist through one of the computer panels. There’s no subtlety to their attack, no patience. Pidge peels back the metal and plugs in without a glance as she’s lost to the swirl of data.

 

Shiro stands guard as the Yellow lion crushes another Galra jet between its jaws. Keith lets out a snarl as more soldiers attempt to enter the room. They’re cut down in seconds.

 

“Search is running. I’m establishing an uplink to the castleship,” Pidge says. “Any files we find referencing Commander Vendak will be loaded to you.”

 

Coran’s workstation chimes, and a sprawl of documents opens on his holoscreen. “Receiving,” he confirms, already looking through some of the files as Allura approaches.

 

“What about the prisoner files?” Hunk asks over the comms.

 

“They’re labeled with numbers only; no names or descriptions,” the Green paladin says, unwilling to let that set her back. “I’m downloading everything.”

 

“There!” Coran exclaims, stabbing a finger at one of the documents. “Vendek listed as commander of orbiting battlecruiser M1-NT13. Escorting classified prisoner, it says. This is it.”

 

“Let’s go,” Keith says. “We need to g-”

 

Shiro cuts in softly. “Can you access the medical files?” The clicking of Pidge’s keys slows for a moment, then continues.

 

Allura didn’t want to ask for it, but she agrees. They need to know what to expect, to be prepared to pull Lance out safely regardless of his condition.

 

“There are laboratory logs here for all the prisoners. Sketches, blueprints for surgery - it’s horrible,” the Green paladin says.

 

As the files upload, Allura can see that everything is labeled by classification number. They have no way to tell which file is which, except for basic anatomy sketches of each prisoner. They’ll never find Lance going through one by one.

 

“Pull up the most recent procedures. Start there,” Shiro says.

 

“There was one updated just a few vargas ago.” Pidge’s breath hitches. “But it… it looks…”

 

A medical framework appears on Allura’s screen. Galran measurements track heart rate, blood pressure, brain activity. The exact readings mean little to her, unfamiliar as she is with human biology. But the body outline clearly shows a human form, built like Lance and about the same height. Surgical notes and markings cover the lower half of the roughly sketched figure.

 

 _“Amputation and implant on preliminary subject was a success.”_ Pidge reads aloud, voice cracking. “They... they took his legs Shiro, oh god they…” The rest is swallowed up by tears.

 

Allura expands the file. Notes in the bottom corner of the page authorize the subject as a _‘Phase 2 viability test’_. This operation was just the beginning of the druid’s plans.

 

“What? No, no I thought we had more time, we… we just saw him.” Keith demands. “How did they design the implants so fast??”

 

“They planned to use him in the labs from the beginning. Whether we cooperated or not,” Coran says through a clenched jaw. “The Galra have been planning this since the lockdown.”

 

“But _why??_ Why would they take…” The Yellow paladin breaks down.

 

Allura pages forward in the document, screen filling with plans for full-body augmentations. Her heart races faster with every section she reads.

 

The Galra designs attempt to tap into the central nervous system, building advanced prosthetics outward from the spinal cord. There are more blueprints, not just legs - replacing arms, eyes, lungs... The file references another prisoner number, a primary candidate that received Phase 1 impl-

 

Pidge suddenly swears, and a red alert starts flashing in the corner of the display. “Shit shit _shit_ , there’s an alarm. They had a distress beacon and I missed it - Allura!”

 

Allura jerks away from the file. “Send us the frequency, we need to stifle the signal. Coran, how long has it been transmitting?”

 

“No way to tell for sure, Princess,” the older Altean says. “The castleship’s jammer is active now, but we need to move. If anyone heard that call, reinforcements could be headed this way - or our target may try to make an escape.”

 

“Paladins, retreat,” Allura orders. Her hands are clenched into fists, fingernails leaving painful crescents in her palm. They need to go before the Galra can do anything more to Lance.

 

“What about the battlecruiser?? We need to g-” Hunk starts.

 

“I know, Hunk,” she interrupts before the team reacts further. “I’m going to wormhole us there.” Folding space is straining, but Allura knows it’s the fastest way to pounce on the battlecruiser before it can try to disappear again. “We have the coordinates and we know Lance is aboard. We attack now - there’s no more time.”

 

“Regroup. Regroup and fall back,” Shiro gets out, struggling to find the composure he needs to lead. “The Princess is right. Let’s get him back.”

 

The Lions of Voltron do not easily forget, and Allura has a promise to keep.

 

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to [minti-e](https://minti-e.tumblr.com) for your beautiful edits. 
> 
> We’re approaching the part of the story I’ve been most excited to share - any last requests? >:3


	15. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and the team storm the battlecruiser, determined to get their Blue paladin back. Hoping they get there in time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people asked so please remember: My fics will **always** have happy endings.
> 
> Thank you to [hoe-is-me](https://hoe-is-me.tumblr.com/) and [minti-e](https://minti-e.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing and offering some fantastic ideas to add tension throughout. Also, a big thank you to edgynerdforlife who drew fanart aaaaa!! [Check it out on tumblr!](https://edgynerdforlife.tumblr.com/post/171167276409/a-fan-art-for-tomminowrites-for-there-fan-fic)

.

 

.

 

Keith’s hands clench tight around Red’s controls, the tension between his shoulder blades increasing with every second that slips past. They know where Lance is, and now they just need to _get there_. Fast.

 

Finally, the teleduv is ready to activate and Allura opens a hasty wormhole. The portal drops them dangerously close to the battleship’s coordinates, and the lions charge out as soon as the castleship is through.

 

There, hanging in space ominously, sits the battlecruiser. They’ve made it in time... it hasn’t escaped.

 

A swarm of fighterships pours out from the cruiser - the Galra responding full force to Voltron’s sudden appearance. Allura and Coran open fire from the Castle of Lions and Keith shoves Red’s accelerator forward. He’s ready to destroy something, to tear into the warship like the team had done at the outpost. The Red paladin’s fury hasn’t burned out quite yet.

 

Before he can land more than a few shots though, the Yellow lion rushes forward to engage Keith’s target.

 

“Go, there isn’t time!” Hunk calls over the comms. “Pidge and I will cover you, just GO.”

 

The bloodrush fades. Hunk is right; Lance is the only thing that matters in this fight. Keith pulls up short on his dive, turning sharply to swoop around the first line of fighters. Blaster fire from the Black lion destroys a ship in his path and Keith soars through the spray of sparks.

 

“I’m coming with you,” Shiro says, red and black lions leaping toward the cruiser. “Concentrate your fire on the exit hangar.”

 

They blast their way through the bay doors, lion claws skidding to a stop inside the flight deck. Keith tumbles out of Red and dispatches a pair of sentries. Shiro takes out another guard, and then the paladins pause to get their bearings. The battlecruiser is a maze of hallways.

 

Seeming to sense their trouble, Allura’s voice picks up on the comm. “The files Pidge recovered indicate that prisoners are held in the right wing of the laboratories.”

 

“This way,” Shiro says, leading with upsetting familiarity. Keith can only imagine what strength it takes for the Black paladin to willingly charge back into a druid lab. 

 

He feels a shudder himself when they pass through a mid-station airlock, the glass walls and heavy doors reminding him all too vividly of what happened their last time aboard the battlecruiser. This time though, the doors aren’t even locked.

 

They encounter a few soldiers along the way, but there aren’t as many as expected. Most of the  Galra defenses must have been assigned to fight the lions outside. The occasional explosion rocks the battlecruiser as the paladins run toward the labs.

 

All Keith can think of is Lance being alive. No matter what they do to his limbs, his legs - just let him be alive. Keith will heal the rest. 

 

_ Please. Don’t take him away. _

 

The two paladins slow as they approach their destination. The prisoner hallway is nearly silent as dim lights flicker above cramped cells. Keith glances over at Shiro nervously. There are no guards.

 

The Black paladin peers into a cell window and shakes his head, the prisoners inside either dead or absent. Keith continues ahead, bayard at the ready.

 

This cell block leads to another corridor - one that’s darker, but just as empty. Noxious glowlights illuminate a row of windowless vaults.

 

One cell door is left ajar. Waiting.

 

Cold unease trickles down the Red paladin’s back, goosebumps prickling in its wake. 

 

Keith steps forward and his boot nearly slips on the blood.

 

_ Blood? _ He looks down. A stagnant puddle has settled across the floor, sticky rivulets spreading down from the doorframe. Keith’s breathing picks up. The color of it is wrong, dyed dark from the purple lights of the hallway.

 

He can’t take another step. 

 

The Black paladin approaches and lets out a helpless curse when he sees the viscous stain around Keith’s foot. Just inches away, the cell is dark and freezing cold. 

 

Shiro reaches around him and carefully slides the door open, movements slow with anticipation. Keith tears his eyes away from the floor, and every muscle goes taut at the sight before them.

 

Blood pools around a broken body in full blue armor, the metal of artificial legs glinting from where he lays on his side. Shiro inhales sharply at the sight of the Galra cybernetics, his own prosthetic creaking as he clenches it into a painful fist. The druid wasted no time with her prize.

 

Lance is facing away from them, leaving no way to tell if he’s awake. If he’s even breathing.

 

There’s so much blood, there’s too much. No one could survive bleeding out like this, oh god, and the blood is already frosting at the edges. Keith feels his face crumple around the burn of tears.  _ Please, please no. _

 

The Red paladin falls to his knees beside the limp form, hands hovering above the body’s turned shoulders as if afraid to touch. Denial floods his mind, but there’s no escape from the violence splattered across the room. This is real. 

 

Keith must make some sort of sound, a broken noise escaping him, because there’s panicked voices over the comms now. 

 

“What’s going on, why is- why is Keith crying?”

 

This is his fault. He wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t strong enough.

 

Shiro still stands by the doorway, not daring to step closer as he answers. “We… we’re too late,” he chokes out.

 

And now Lance is gone. 

 

Hot tears track down his cheeks. Shadows coat the room, nearly obscuring the motionless body. This close, Keith can see how the blue armor is scuffed and barely attached in some places. The back of the helmet has a dried smear of blood, a remnant of when he hit the ground and never got up again.

 

Keith reaches out again, has to see his face. He imagines the dead blue eyes, the fading bruises from the last transmission. He thinks of Lance’s last moments in this little room. Alone.

 

A shuddering breath pulls from his lungs as he rolls the body over. Keith braces himself.

 

But… it’s not him.

 

It’s not Lance.

 

Keith blinks in surprise as he stares down at a green skinned alien, lilac eyes wide and sightless. Just a nameless victim of the druids, dressed in prisoner rags beneath the hastily assembled paladin armor. His throat had been slit.

 

“It’s not Lance,” Keith whispers hoarsely into the comms. His mind struggles to claw its way out of his grief.  _ It’s not Lance. _

 

Shiro drops to a knee beside him, staring down at the alien face in Lance’s armor. His breath of relief is sudden and heavy. The two paladins share a moment of shock, until Shiro snaps out of it enough to realize the implications.

 

“This was a trap,” the Black paladin says, rising to his feet and striding over to look out at the hallway. “They knew. They knew we were coming.”

 

As if on cue, an internal alarm blares. “Lance isn’t here,” Shiro reports to Allura. “They left another body here as a message and relocated him.”

 

“Pidge I need you to scan the auxiliary hull, right side,” the Princess commands. “If the Galra were expecting us, they must have something up their sleeve.”

 

Keith knows they need to go, but he can’t seem to uncurl his hands from the blue armor. They’re still trembling and numb.  _ It’s not Lance. _

 

That’s when he sees it. A string of numbers is scrawled across the paladin chestplate in blood. A message, left deliberately for them to find.

 

The Green paladin must catch something with her scan, because she calls into the comms frantically. “Guys! That whole section is wired to blow, you need to get away from there NOW.”

 

“Sh-shiro,” Keith mumbles. He can’t get the words out, but the Black paladin turns back to him without hesitation. “Look.”

 

“It’s some sort of code, but there’s no time now,” Shiro says. “We take him with us.” He scoops up the body, a blue armored wrist falling to hang limp.

 

Keith realizes it wasn’t just the light - the alien’s blood really is a darker, murky violet instead of red. It coats Keith’s palms, soaking in at his knees.  _ It’s not Lance. It’s not Lance. _

 

He rises on numb feet, stumbling after his leader toward their lions. Allura directs the rest of the team to clear a path for retreat, racing to beat the detonation charge. Countdown ringing in their ears, the two paladins sprint down the now clearly deserted halls. Keith glances over his shoulder more than once, afraid he’ll see the nightmarish red of lockdown lights in pursuit.

 

The adrenaline of running from a bomb can only do so much to drown out Keith’s inner turmoil. His stomach roils from the complex mix of emotions in his gut. The devastation of leaving without the Blue paladin churns uncomfortably with the relief that this  _ isn’t  _ Lance after all. 

 

And what kind of sick game are the Galra playing, making Keith feel relief instead of horror at finding a mutilated prisoner slaughtered in cold blood? Shiro struggles to haul the body through the halls, heavy additions to the slim frame making the weight unbalanced. 

 

The alien boy’s legs have been replaced from just below his hip joints, glimpses of metal peeking out from between the plates of blue leg armor. It’s identical to the sketches Pidge found.

 

One question lingers as they board Red and Black, dashing away from the timebomb at their backs. If they had the wrong medical file… If he’s no longer in the prisoners wing... then...

  
What have the Galra done with Lance?

 

.

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gotcha ♥


	16. Tricked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the operation, Lance is left drifting. What happened to him before Voltron's attack - and what do the Galra have planned next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you minti-e for proofreading, and to az-doodles for naming the alien race on tumblr! I actually saved a bunch of the name suggestions for future use, thanks so much everyone!!

.

 

.

 

After the operation, Lance is left drifting. He just lays there at the back of his cell - unable to move his body, to open his eyes, to think past the pain. The ache throbs hot across his body, but the metal floor is cold where it presses into old bruises and new wounds.

 

Lance can only focus on breathing.

 

He remembers soldiers dragging him to the labs after Voltron cut off the transmission, his weak struggling nothing more than a nuisance. Magnetic restraints were activated to pin the Blue paladin down, and then Galra claws had pushed a plastic mask over his face. Memories of the gag sent Lance into a panic, realizing too late that he was inhaling the sickly sweet air.

 

The gas bled away the energy of his panic, and soon his tired body gave up the fight. Vision tunneling, the last thing Lance saw was the eager face of the druid above him.

 

But as his consciousness faded, the nightmare began.

 

Lance glimpsed the world in flashes of pain and bursts of sound. His own voice screaming, the buzz of a drill, prickling needles in his skin. Those memories of the surgery are a kaleidoscope of white hot agony and choking fear.

 

Now, the Blue paladin lays motionless where the Galra returned him, unwilling to drag himself back to harsh reality. Perhaps if he were more like Shiro, he’d be strong enough to pull himself together after the labs - form some kind of a plan...

 

Instead, Lance wraps himself in the cotton haze of half-consciousness. It’s safer here. Less painful.

 

But his trance is interrupted by familiar voices outside. Reluctantly, Lance tunes his ears to the conversation beyond the door.

 

“There’s been a distress beacon at Luyten,” a deep voice says. It's Vendek. “We suspect this is Voltron’s doing. We need to relocate.”

 

_Voltron! The team is okay._ Lance’s heart beats stronger at the thought, and he pushes himself further into awareness.

 

“No. The Blue paladin is still recovering,” the druid answers. “If we move him this soon after implantation, we risk permanent damage to the subject’s nervous system!”

 

“A private transport is being prepared. Continue your work there.” The commander’s tone brokers no argument.

 

“I will not let you jeopardize my progress - not when I’m this close to success,” Drevala snaps. “The test of phase two on the Xalphurian boy went perfectly. We’re ready to move forward with the paladin.”

 

_No. Please. No more._ Lance’s pulse picks up at the threat, fear pumping new energy through his veins.

 

“We have rooms aboard the starfreighter that will serve your purposes. Gather what materials you need, and we will bring your experiments to completion elsewhere.” Vendek says something to the guards, instructions to ready the prisoner for transport.

 

Lance’s mind whirls. He needs to… needs to be ready. Needs to escape. He won’t survive another operation, not with his mind intact.

 

He tries to roll himself sideways, tries to lift his head.

 

But he can’t move. _He can’t move._

 

Lance tugs with all his might against the weight of his own arm, a frustrated scream building in his lungs. His body isn’t responding - won't even twitch his fingers. Panic sweeps through Lance's chest, suffocating him.

 

Finally, forcefully, his arm jerks upward and the crushing vice on his chest releases in relief.

 

A split-second after the movement though, blinding heat goes searing up Lance’s back. His nerves are set aflame, fire blazing over to his arm.

 

The pain sends him spiraling back toward unconsciousness - the Blue paladin’s mind tumbling into the dark just as his cell door opens.

  
  


\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

_maybe the team will never find him._

_...maybe it’s time to stop fighting._

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  
  


Lance wakes up slowly, brain fuzzy and disoriented. The all-encompassing pain from the surgery has lessened, no longer biting into his sides with every heartbeat.

 

With a groan, Lance turns onto his side. He’s careful, very careful, to not aggravate his wounds, but at least it seems the immobility and agony from before has passed.

 

He lays there and just… breathes for a bit. He’s exhausted, throat parched. His woozy mind can barely grasp what’s going on around him.

 

The cell is hot. Stiflingly hot.

 

Lance tries to lift his heavy eyes, but they won’t budge. He tries again, and realizes this isn’t the natural weight of sleep.

 

_Dios_ , did the druids do something to his eyes?? Memories of Vendek’s insidious words return in a rush. _“This one has unique eyes for a human, correct? Such a lovely shade of blue.”_

 

His hands fly up to his face, horrified. No no no, they couldn’t have…

 

Shaking fingers meet cloth. It’s a blindfold.

 

He pulls at it weakly and the fabric comes free. He blinks against the sudden light, fingertips probing at the delicate skin of his eyes. Everything feels normal, and Lance lets out of breath of relief that leaves him dizzy. _It’s okay. He’s okay._

 

The Blue paladin pushes himself into a sitting position, back stinging slightly, and looks down at himself. His vision wobbles.

 

He’s been stripped of his armor completely, left only in his tattered black flight suit. The Galra must not care about getting his bayard anymore. Lance’s mind skirts away from the thought, unwilling to consider what that means for him.

 

His legs hurt as he stretches them slightly, but nothing seems to be broken. The rest of him aches deep beneath the surface, skin covered in bruises and scabbing cuts at his side.

 

But he’s whole.

 

Eventually he realizes that his surroundings are unfamiliar. The hum of the ship sounds different, and there’s a different pattern of power cabling in the ceiling. The light above him flickers three times in rapid succession.

 

Lance’s stomach twists from hunger. He can’t remember the last time he was given anything solid to eat. The heat of the room makes his brain sluggish.

 

He’s in a new cell. That’s it. This one is more like a shallow alcove than a vault, completed by a buzzing purple forcefield that seals him off from the guard stationed outside. There are no windows in the room.

 

Lance vaguely registers that this must be why he was blindfolded; so he wouldn’t see anything as they moved him.

 

He turns at the waist to look at the other side of the room, but aborts the motion halfway when a flare of pain tugs at his spine. Lance lets out a hiss, blinking away spots in his vision. The sensation is raw, sharp like a flayed wound.

 

Slowly, he reaches behind him, crossing smooth skin in search of the injury. Probing fingers walk along his back carefully, hesitantly - until they bump into foreign metal. He recoils at the unexpected sensation, but returns to sweep a touch along the strange object.

 

_What… what is this?_

 

He slides his hand upward, tentative fingertips tracing the smooth metal folded into his back. The panel starts thin near his tailbone, widening gradually as it snakes up his spine. Every few inches, he feels a circular knot of metal, anchored in place by two small horizontal braces. Lance’s fingers tremble, but morbid apprehension won’t let him pull away.

 

Whatever it is, it’s buried deep. The flesh at the sides of the implant is hot and swollen, tight like the skin was forced to heal faster than it should have. Lance pushes down slightly at the edge of the metal, and he feels a shiver of fireworks run up his back, tingling through his extremities. His fingers come away bloodless though.

 

He reaches his other hand up to wrap around the back of his neck. There, the hardware thins out again until it disappears at the base of his skull. When Lance rolls his shoulders, wary of more pain, he feels metal shifting and sliding at the back of his ribs.

 

Maybe he’s less whole than he thought.

 

Shock is slow to penetrate the haze around his brain. His lungs strain for air, head spinning as Lance tears his hands away from the foreign device embedded in his spine. _It’s okay. He’s okay,_ he tries to repeat.

 

But the Blue paladin is not okay. The Galra _did something_ to him, mutilated him in some way for their own purposes. They-

 

The forcefield suddenly fizzles out of existence, and two guards step through to grab Lance by the arms. He wants to struggle, but the sudden upward motion leaves him lightheaded and disoriented. The lights in the cell flutter on and off again, three times.

 

Lance is just so tired.

 

The soldiers drag him out of the room, taking him to a command center where Drevala waits. She smiles at the sight of her latest project.

 

It’s hot here too, Lance thinks, or maybe he’s the one burning up. He can’t focus, can barely track the wavering image of the druid before him.

 

The grips at his shoulders release, and the Blue paladin collapses to his knees with a thud. He doesn’t raise his head, but he can hear quiet steps pace around him. Drevala walks a slow circle, no doubt studying her handiwork.

 

“What… what did you do to me?” Lance grits out. Shivering sparks tingle inside his back.

 

The druid chuckles. “Oh, all improvements I assure you.” Her tone darkens ominously as she continues, “And the best is yet to come.”

 

The lights in this room flicker as well, a few of the holo-screens in his peripheral vision quivering with static. _Blinkblinkblink._ It’s familiar, some persistent memory from the Garrison poking at his mind. Lance’s thoughts slip away from him like sand. He knows what this is, almost, it’s like...

 

Heavy metal doors hiss open, and Vendek steps into the room. Lance tries not to cower. He really tries.

 

“Detonation of the battlecruiser was confirmed, yet Voltron suffered no casualties,” the commander rumbles.

 

“A pity,” Drevala says, turning toward one of the ship’s control panels. “But no doubt they found our little gift in time.”

 

“Yes, it seems they did. The comm line is open and waiting.” A smile curls onto the commander’s face and he shoves at the Blue paladin with his boot. Lance’s hand snaps out to catch his fall, moving faster than his brain can even realize that he’s off-balance.

 

“The druid has plenty more planned for you, paladin scum,” Vendek says. “But first, we have one last message to send.”

 

.

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Question for the readers: How do you picture Lance’s spinal implant?** I’ll be describing it from the team’s perspective next chapter, and would love to incorporate any details you guys think of!!
> 
>  
> 
> [tomminowrites](https://tomminowrites.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


	17. Translation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk can barely stand to look at the body in blue armor, but the team learns important information about the medical files they recovered. Lance's captors send one final message and Voltron can only look on in horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **This chapter has torture, nothing graphic.** Tho I can’t help but feel that if you’re still here at this point, this is less of a warning and more of an announcement lol  
>   
>  Also, grab some popcorn babes. This chapter is ten pages long.

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.

 

Let’s be clear: Hunk has seen a lot of shit since getting mixed up in the whole Voltron thing. Families torn apart by war, planets and civilizations destroyed from within. Every other week it seems they’re fighting a new nightmare at the hands of the Galra.

 

But nothing - _nothing_ \- could prepare him for what greeted him when the Black lion landed and Shiro disembarked. One look and Hunk finds himself stumbling backward, feet trying to pull him toward the door to escape the sight of Shiro’s burden.

 

Curled in their leader’s arms, dark stains of blood smeared across white armor, lies the Blue paladin.

 

Or what looks like the Blue paladin. Hunk had heard them over the comms, knows that it's not Lance lying broken and bleeding in their leader's arms. But seeing the body now rattles something within Hunk that he thought to be unshakable.

 

_What if they don’t find him in time?_

 

Pidge comes rushing into the hangar next, and Hunk has enough sense to grab the younger paladin before she sees. "Hey," he says, momentum spinning her to face him. "It's... it’s not Lance, okay?"

 

"I know that! But any clue we-"

 

"Just, take it slower. P-please Pidge," Hunk implores. The Green paladin stares up at him for a moment and must see something somber in his expression. She quiets.

 

"Alright." Pidge slips a hand into his. They round the corner together as Keith and Shiro are carefully depositing the body on a table. Hunk focuses on not squeezing too hard on the tiny hand in his own.

 

Pidge gasps, then lurches forward. Unlike Hunk, she needs to see more - needs to see clear confirmation that this isn't Lance at all. Hunk only glances at the soft green face in the armor, quick to skirt away from the blood.

 

The lower half of the prisoner isn't any better, though. Silver flashes through gaps in the paladin armor, the prosthetic legs a crude mockery of natural flesh. Hunk imagines Lance wearing Galra metal like this. No more dancing, no more surfing. He would never again feel the sands of Veradero beach between his toes.

 

The Yellow paladin's stomach twists.

 

He looks up when the door slides open again to admit Allura and Coran. The two Alteans join Shiro and Pidge where they huddle to tenitavely examine the body. Only Keith and Hunk stand apart, silent and shaken.

 

The Red paladin looks miserable. Normally Keith would take comfort in some sort of action, in making a plan to strike with swift retaliation. But Hunk can see the way the other paladin's hands shake.

 

He steps closer to Keith, hesitating just long enough to check that the intrusion is okay. Hunk opens his mouth to say something reassuring.

 

"We were too slow," Keith says first. "I'm sorry. I-I'm sorry Hunk. I thought we would..." His voice cracks, and Hunk wraps an arm across the Red paladin’s shoulders.

 

He may be Lance’s best friend, but Hunk isn’t the only one suffering here. He reminds himself not to forget that the others need support too.

 

"We'll get him back," he says aloud. "We have to. And then we'll apologize to Lance together."

 

Keith lets out a heavy breath, tinged more with sorrow than relief. But at least he knows they're in this together. That's the only consolation Hunk can offer right now, standing over a body wearing Lance's blue.

 

"Oh, this poor lad,” Coran sighs. "Looks Xalphurian, I believe - a colony of kind and gentle people. He didn't deserve this."

 

"No one does," Allura says gently. "And especially not Lance. I need to look at those medical files again." She steps over to a control panel and opens a screen.

 

Hunk perks up for a moment, grasping at the glimmer of hope. "You mean these here are the implants we read about? Lance wasn't the subject after all? He... he could be okay, you guys. We might still have time!"

 

"It's too hard to tell just from the sketches," Pidge says, moving to examine the files with Allura. "All the prisoners were classified by number. The leg design we found was for prisoner… 2JU-”

 

“L1A-06?” Shiro finishes. The team looks to him in surprise, only to see him grimace down at the body. “He’s wearing a collar. The same numbers are printed here.”

 

The metal wrapped around the Xalphurian’s torn throat is dark with blood, but Hunk can just make out the etching on the side. He thinks of the commander locking a tight magnetic collar around Lance’s throat so many days ago. Is there a number on Lance’s neck as well, reducing him to just another subject in the Galra prisoner system?

 

“So this was never Lance’s file.” Pidge sounds shocked, and guilty. “I pulled the wrong info.”

 

“The confusion is understandable,” Coran says. “Clearly this boy was chosen as a test subject based on his similarity to our Blue paladin.”

 

“But a test for what?” Allura asks absently, still scrolling through the file. “Before, I thought… I thought I read something about a primary candidate.” She taps a section of the document.

 

The screen fills with a new page, this one showing a range of body augmentations. Shiro pales as he stares at the multitude of Galra designs. Hunk’s attention darts across the screen, each sketch more upsetting than the last. Arms, legs, organs… His eyes are drawn to an implant labeled _Phase One._

 

“What is that?” Keith questions, pointing to the same design. The mechanical piece is long and segmented, a dragonscale stretch of metal that radiates wires and scribbled druid notes.

 

Allura’s voice lowers as she studies the Galran text. “It’s a cybernetic spine. The next step in mechanical modification. Replacing one section of the body makes it stronger - but without a supporting nerve structure to make full use of it, the prosthetic is just another weapon that depends on the skill of the user.”

 

Shiro speaks up with horrified understanding. “The Galra want to modify the user first, and then attach their robotics to the enhanced nervous system.”

 

“Enhanced how?” Hunk asks.

 

“I’m afraid I don’t know enough about human anatomy to say,” Allura confesses. “The cybernetic could do any number of things - decrease pain sensitivity, program combat movements, improve his reflexes… And who knows what kind of external control the Galra will have over it.”

 

_Oh, Lance._

 

They need to move faster, need to stop anything like this from happening. They need more time.

 

“So what’s this message then?” Keith indicates the bloody numbers scrawled on the paladin chestplate. “They don’t look like another prisoner designation.”

 

"I think it's a transmission code," Pidge says. "It's not our standard numeral line but if it's a Galra broadcast… I can find a way to connect to it."

 

“Then there’s only one way to find out.” Shiro’s voice is stern. “Open the line, but make sure we’re untraceable.”

 

The Green paladin’s fingers flutter across the keyboard, Coran leaning over her shoulder to point out suggestions as she establishes a connection.

 

When they finally have an uplink, the line is quiet. All they can do is wait.

 

When the transmission does activate, the team is suddenly hit with the image of Commander Vendek and Drevala, a small prisoner kneeling between them. The room is different than past communications; no wall of stars is present behind the figures on-screen. They’re in another ship then, one that escaped the battlecruiser before Voltron even arrived.

 

The image flickers with a triple burst of static, and Pidge returns to the keyboard - no doubt trying to stabilize and trace the signal. Hunk steps closer to the display, wishing he could reach through the holoscreen to comfort the Blue paladin.

 

Lance is slumped on his knees in the center of the room, downcast head lifting slightly when the team shouts his name. He’s wearing only his flight suit, but the tattered cloth does little to hide the blood and bruising.

 

Hunk scans over every inch of Lance, counting fingers and toes. He… he’s whole. The Blue paladin is battered, dark smudges across his body and under his eyes, but the small spark of hope in Hunk’s chest ignites. Maybe they’re not too late.

 

“Oh good, you deciphered our little message,” Vendek sneers. “I was thinking that if you didn’t open the comm line, we’d just send Voltron a piece of your paladin. Maybe with a nice note.”

 

“You’re going to pay for this,” Keith growls from beside Hunk, grief turned to fury again. “We’re going to tear you limb from limb for every second that you touched him, you-”

 

The commander’s hand snaps out to backhand Lance, and Keith cuts off with a choked gasp. The Blue paladin goes sprawling, and Vendek turns to address the camera.

 

“Touch him?” He seems to consider for a moment, “You mean like this?” He winds back to hit the paladin again, but Lance just lets out a hollow laugh.

 

“ _Hoooo boy_ , that hurt.” Lance expression is hazy, eyes unfocused as he shakes off the blow. “You know, the problem with this violent streak is that I’m starting to get used to it.”

 

Vendek clenches his hand into a fist, but the druid steps forward to interrupt. Her voice is calm, a scary contrast to the rage of the commander. Hunk gets  goosebumps with every word.

 

“Why don’t we show your team what we’ve been working on, then? You wanted answers, after all.” With that, Drevala reaches forward to grab the paladin by the shoulder and spins him around. Lance cries out, in pain or in fear, as his back is pointed at the camera.

 

Shock.

 

The team can’t make a sound, can barely fill their lungs with enough air to gasp.

 

_Phase One._

 

If the spinal design looked disturbing on paper, it’s nothing compared to the sight of the implant in reality. The back of his flight suit has been burned away, the plunge revealing the full expanse of Lance’s tan back. Metal glints as the Blue paladin flinches away from the upset sounds of his team.

 

A series of black and silver pieces track up his spine, metal ridges peeking out from where they’ve been embedded beneath his skin. The joints are stacked like a zipper, flexible and delicate where they start at his tailbone. A thin horizontal T-brace wraps to the edges of his waist, glowing softly under his flesh. It only accentuates Lance’s lithe frame, bulk made even leaner from his time in captivity.

 

The mechanics thicken slightly as the design crawls up his back, five knots of metal anchored in a vertical line between his shoulder blades. The circles give off a sick purple hue, mirrored in the faint light of wires tracking away beneath his skin.

 

Hunk’s eyes follow the path of the implant up Lance’s neck where the metal tapers into two slender lines. They run up toward the base of the paladin’s skull, thinning out of existence just below his hairline.

 

The design could almost be elegant, if it hadn’t been forcibly welded into his best friend as an experiment by one of the scariest creatures in the universe. Hunk tries not to retch when the druid runs a hand down Lance’s back.

 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Drevala purrs. “And oh so useful. The spinal implant is tethered to every fiber of your nervous system.” The druid moves a finger to one of the circles, a spark of purple electricity jumping toward the metal.

 

Lance cries out, one of his arms twisting in a spasm that’s clearly against his control. The Blue paladin grips at his upper arm and curls forward around the limb.

 

“I’m under your skin now, little blue. I’ll be able to teach you a whole new meaning of pain.” Drevala smiles. “And stimulation is the best way to solidify the connections between the tech and my magic.” She reaches out again to deliver a stronger jolt of energy.

 

An agonized noise is ripped from Lance’s throat as his entire body pulls taut, muscles shaking under the tension of what must be mind-numbing pain. The Blue paladin can’t even scream, just chokes slightly as he struggles to draw air into his lungs, ribcage shuddering with the sudden strain.

 

Keith lets out a shout and Pidge buries her face in her hands with a sob. Hunk can’t move, can’t even brush his tears away as he watches his best friend writhe under the druid’s ministrations.

 

They were too slow, took too long piecing the clues together. This is all their fault.

 

When the electricity stops, Lance crumples to the ground with a thud. Deep, panting breaths rack his limp form as the paladin presses a hand to his chest.

 

The transmission is interrupted again by a buzz of static. The lights flicker on-screen, emphasizing the yellow glow of the commander’s eyes as the room dims for a moment.

 

“We’ve grown tired of waiting, Voltron. Let’s bring this game to an end.” Vendek paces over to type at a console, and coordinates ping onto one of the screens. Coran examines the numbers warily.

 

“My ship will arrive at this location in two quintants,” the commander continues. “Bring your lions, your castleship - whatever pathetic defenses you can summon in time. We’ll be waiting. But know that this is your last chance to see the Blue paladin alive. There will be no more transmissions.”

 

“No!” Lance calls out, struggling to pull his weak body upright. “No don’t come, it’s a trap! It’s clearly a tr-”

 

The druid scowls and sends the Blue paladin to the floor with a sharp zap. Lance seizes again, bones quivering as they grind together. When the tension finally releases, the paladin is left blinking heavily at the ceiling as if trying to clear black spots from his vision.

 

“Better me... _que ellos... m-mejor yo que ellos,”_ Lance pants to himself, near delirious. Blood trickles from where he must have bitten his tongue.

 

“What’s he saying?” Pidge whispers hoarsely.

 

Hunk translates. _“Better me than them. Better me than them…”_

 

The can see the fight bleeding out of Lance, exhaustion trembling over his limbs and seeping into his mind. Hunk knows that the Blue paladin is now only resisting for the team’s sake, not his own, throwing himself against hopeless odds.

 

“Please Lance, please don’t give up,” Hunk pleads. “We’re coming for you, we’re going to get you back, just hang on.”

 

“Guys I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Lance looks up to the camera. The expression will haunt the team forever, features drawn and pinched with an enduring anguish. “I can’t…”

 

“Don’t do this, Lance. Don’t stop fighting.” Keith’s voice is broken, as close to begging as Hunk has ever heard him.

 

The Blue paladin softens for a moment. “Keith… I sh-should have told you. Should have…” He trails off gently, and the Red paladin lets out a painful whine.

 

Dark lashes flutter shut and Lance seems to steel himself. “Don’t come back. Don’t go to those coordinates, please. Don’t give them what they want!”

 

“You seem to think you have a say in this, paladin. You forget your place,” Vendek grabs at Lance with a snarl. “The druid still has plans for you. Soon we’ll put wires in your brain, replace every last bit of you until you’re no different than any Galra soldier.”

 

He leans closer to whisper into the Blue paladin’s ear. Whatever he says makes the boy struggle as claws tighten around his throat.

 

“Never. T-the Galra will get nothing from me,” Lance wheezes.

 

Vendek moves, twisting one of the paladin’s arms forcefully behind his back. “Say it,” he growls.

 

The commander pulls harder, and the team hears something in the paladin’s shoulder crack. Allura brings her hands to her mouth with a sharp gasp, and Lance... screams.

 

The commander grins in perverse satisfaction, and Lance’s gaze flickers away from the camera as if ashamed. “ _V… vrepit… sa,_ ” he whispers, cheeks wet with tears.

 

Hunk is shaking all over, hands clenching and unclenching uselessly.

 

Vendek drops his captive without another thought and turns to address the team. “You heard our terms, Voltron. Two quintants. This is our final communication.”

 

The screen flickers with static, lights in the room dimming as well. _Blinkblinkblink._ Lance’s head snaps up suddenly, a flash of realization burning through the pain in his eyes.

 

_“Los trillizos,”_ he says frantically, staring directly into the camera. _“Nos estamos quemando, Hunk.”_ Eyes wide, his voice strains with the force of his defiance.

 

Stark, trusting, desperate. Lance is putting his life into Hunk’s hands.

 

Vendek calls for a soldier to terminate the transmission, demanding to know what Lance said. The screen cuts to black, and the room descends into chaos.

 

Allura rushes to map the coordinates with Pidge, Coran already describing the desolate area of space the Galra have chosen for the meetup. Keith is ferociously questioning Shiro, talking about how two days is too long. They need to move sooner.

 

Hunk remains where he is, trying to hold Lance’s words in his mind. But he doesn’t understand.  _Los trillizos?_

 

“What did he say at the end?” Allura asks. “That’s not a language our translator has encountered before.”

 

“Spanish. And he... he was talking to me,” Hunk admits. He puts a hand to his forehead, wracking his brain to decipher the words with the rusty Spanish he knows. It was so fast…

 

“ _Trilli_ … the triplets. And then, _we’re burning up_.” The Yellow paladin looks to his team helplessly. “What does that mean?”

 

He’s met only with uneasy silence, until Shiro speaks up cautiously. “Lance has… been through a lot. We need to consider that he may not be thinking clearly. The druids have a way of- of messing with your head.”

 

Hunk swallows thickly. Clearly their leader is speaking from experience. And no one could blame Lance, seeing how he looked battered both physically and mentally.

 

But the Yellow paladin can’t shake the feeling that, in that moment, those blue eyes were crystal clear for the first time in days.

 

“So… are we going to go?” Pidge asks. “I mean, shit. Is it even still a trap if they _tell us_ it’s a trap?”

 

“It’s not a trap. It’s a suicide mission,” Shiro says. It doesn’t sound like he’s ruled it out though. The Black paladin is searching the map, working to form a plan against the odds.

 

“We have to go!” Keith says. “We can’t afford not to - look what they’re doing to him!”

 

Allura glances back at the medical file on the holoscreen. “Lance isn’t going to last much longer… Even if we go to the meetup, two quintants is long enough for the druids to do even more damage. We need to move sooner.”

 

Coran is searching through the star map, two small markers glowing at the battlecruiser’s last location and the new coordinates. Hunk watches the stars spin by.

 

“I’m afraid there’s just no telling where they could be right now,” the Altean says. “They could be hiding in any number of locations outside the meet point, so long as it’s within travel distance of a smaller craft.”

 

_Los trillizos._

 

“Wait.” Hunk throws his hands into the starmap and revolves a section back toward him. “I know where Lance is.”

 

The team is at his side in an instant. “Where?” Keith asks, eyes roaming the constellations projected between them.

 

“Coran, you recognized a triple sun conglomerate in the area, right?” Hunk spins the model faster as he talks, searching the skies between the two markers. “Lance and I had a section on rare star clusters back at the Garrison our first year. When three suns are close together like that, their solar flares arc all uh, funny-like.”

 

“A triple electromagnetic wave,” Pidge supplies, seeming to catch on. “Blink blink blink.”

 

“Right,” Hunk says. “And that supercharged cloud of electrons and ions will almost always interrupt a ship’s power supply and long range radio transmissions. Ah, right here.” He points to three sparkling dots of light on the starmap, zooming in.

 

“So the static on the screen, the flickering lights,” Keith says. “They’re hiding between the suns. Clearly the Galra don’t want us to find them until they’re ready.”

 

“It’s a risky move, but it would certainly conceal the ship from any of our temperature and electronic scans.” Coran runs a scan as he speaks anyway, the area coming up empty. “With proper shielding, damage to the ship would be minimal. Just some magnetic interference and internal heat accumulation to deal with.”

 

_“We’re burning up,”_ Shiro echoes. “This might really be it. How do we even get that close ourselves?”

 

“Red could do it,” Keith says without hesitation. “Red and I can take the heat.”

 

Their leader nods. “Alright. But there must be some way for us to detect a starfreighter, know for sure that the Galra are in there.”

 

Pidge suggests sonomagnetic scans, but Hunk dismisses it. The suns’ plasma would interfere with the signal. Maybe if they built a subphoton ray… no, there’s not enough time for that. Shiro ventures a guess at radiant shielding, but the Green and Yellow paladins explain that the physics of that tech wouldn’t work here.

 

“Perhaps…” Allura says quietly. “Perhaps you are focusing to hard on finding what _is_ there.”

 

She switches to a basic thermal scan, the three suns glowing brightly into each other. “Maybe we need to try looking for what heat _isn’t_ there. If the Galra are shielding themselves from the heat, trying to stop the inside of their ship from burning up between the suns…”

 

The Princess zooms in further, diving into the space between the radiating energy of the suns. And then, there’s a small hole in the heat. A tiny cold spot, nestled away among the blazing aura of the suns.

 

It’s the size of a ship.

 

.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who commented descriptions last chapter!!! Together we’ve created a terrifyingly beautiful spinal implant for Lance :O  
>   
> Thank you sweet [hoe-is-me](https://hoe-is-me.tumblr.com/) and my love [minti-e](https://minti-e.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing ♥ Also thank you [keefkoquane](https://keefkoquane.tumblr.com/) and [Trancy_Countess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trancy_Countess/pseuds/Trancy_Countess) for proofreading my spanish!! Jeez I think I’m the luckiest author in existence...  
>   
>  **Next Chapter: Lance wakes up in the lab, out of time.**


	18. Trillizos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance wakes up in a Galra prep room before surgery, and realizes that if he doesn't escape now... the druid will pluck him to pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you [minti-e](https://minti-e.tumblr.com/) and [hoe-is-me](https://hoe-is-me.tumblr.com/) for betaing, as well as all the beautiful monsters on tumblr who helped workshop some details for this chapter ♥ GVN2, litty, scooty, wing, keef - all my love
> 
> also, Paper-Coral drew ART OF THE IMPLANT, [one from before the description](https://paper-coral.tumblr.com/post/171714773836/edit-aright-im-remaking-this-i-hate-it-god) and then [another updated version](https://paper-coral.tumblr.com/post/171912182486/i-didnt-like-the-first-one-i-did-so-i-re-did-it) with full detail. Check them out!??!!

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Lance wakes up in the labs.

 

Well, not the labs exactly, the Blue paladin realizes. He’s in the medical room that’s used to dose up the prisoners before the druid begins her work.

 

The room is empty, silent except for the whir of medical machines beside him. Lance sits up from the table and feels the drag of intravenous lines at his arm. The needles tingle with a familiar itch, feeding him the same cold injection he experienced during prep for his last surgery.

 

He tugs the IV lines out of his skin, disconnected tubes left to drip clear chemical onto the floor. The Galra had pumped him full of some unknown concentration before his spinal operation. Based on how it made his heart pound nearly out of his chest, Lance figures it must be some mix of adrenaline to keep him from going into shock during the surgery.

 

Last time, he had been too weak to even open his eyes during prep. But now his blood sings with nervous energy.

 

The Blue paladin swings his legs over the edge of the table and the room swirls from a wave of lightheadedness. He takes a moment to let his vision clear, and his eyes catch on a new IV line, this one moving a steady stream of red blood.  A crimson bag hangs at the side of the table.

 

He reaches up and traces the line to a needle embedded in his neck, just below his metal collar. Lance pulls gracelessly at the injection point, pulse fluttering beneath his scrabbling fingertips. The needle slides free and he lets the line drop. 

 

The Galra are drawing blood, collecting it for some later use. Whatever Drevala has planned for him... she expects him to lose a dangerous amount of blood.

 

Lance doesn’t let the thought linger. 

 

The bloodloss must have worked in his favor, though. With a higher ratio of adrenaline coursing through his veins, he’s clearly awake earlier than the Galra planned.

 

Lance stumbles off the table to his feet, giving himself a quick once over. Someone seems to have popped his shoulder back in place, thankfully. After Vendek tore it out of its socket during the transmission… Well, Lance is still vaguely surprised to have come away from that encounter alive.

 

The commander had been furious for a time, demanding to know what Lance had called out to his team in a foreign tongue. Drevala had eventually shocked the Blue paladin into blessed unconsciousness, but he hadn’t revealed a word of what he said.

 

Hunk had heard him. That’s what mattered.

 

Clearly, the Galra have no expectation of bargaining with Voltron. Lance is just spare parts, material to be used as they please. 

 

After the operations, will they send him to the arena like Shiro? He’s heard the shouts of their leader’s nightmares, knows all too well the horrors the Galra will inflict on their prisoners in the name of sport.

 

Or will Lance face a worse fate than the gladiator ring? Maybe he’ll be stripped down to his barest parts and rebuilt as a tool for the Empire. Fight against his friends, take innocent lives, and help conquer the galaxy. There might be nothing left of him - or worse, enough left of his mind that he has to watch it all. Helpless but to obey his new masters.

 

_ “Vrepit sa, soldier,” Vendek had snarled in his ear. _

 

The Blue paladin shudders and forces his aching body to take a step forward. If he doesn’t escape now, the Galra will pluck him to pieces. They’ll turn him into a puppet just like the commander said.

 

_ Movement. _ Lance flinches like a startled animal when he sees the shifting silhouette of a guard outside the door. He’s not as alone as he first thought.

 

Lance slides to the floor, back pressing against a leg of the table as he tries to wrestle his dazed mind into making a plan. He needs to get out, needs to get back to his team.

 

He told Voltron not to come, so his only option is to go to them.

 

The odds of him actually making it out of here are… low. Lance is a trembling mess, and he’s still having trouble focusing on one spot for too long. He has no armor. No weapons.

 

Desperate blue eyes scan the room for something, anything he can use. A glint of silver has him reaching up to a nearby operating tray. Lance grabs what looks like a scalpel, curved and longer than usual. The tool makes his hand jittery, mind struck with a flash of memory from the last operation.

 

The lights above him flicker, another flare from the triple suns rolling over the ship. The guard at the door shifts slightly, laser rifle at his hip.

 

Distraction… he needs a distraction…

 

Lance’s eyes settle on the bloodbag swinging innocuously next to the prep table. That’ll do.

 

The Blue paladin snatches the bag, thin plastic crinkling in his hand, and creeps over to the door. Pressing himself to the surface beside the entrance, Lance takes a deep breath. He has one shot at this.

 

He winds back and slams the bloodbag into the door window. It explodes, coating violent red all over the glass as planned. The spray hits him as well, but Lance doesn’t stop to take notice.

 

The door slides open a split-second after the impact, the guard storming through to see what the hell just happened. And then Lance is moving.

 

He crashes bodily into the side of the soldier, sending the Galra flying and his blaster clattering to the floor. The attack - while surprising - is weak and off-balance, and the guard quickly recovers. 

 

He swings a meaty fist at Lance, but the paladin’s forearm snaps up to block the blow before Lance even registers the attack. His wrist rings from the sudden impact. All Lance can do is blink in surprise.

 

Like reflex, his other hand swoops through the gap in the soldier’s defense. The scalpel slashes above the neckline of the Galra armor, and the guard falls to the ground with a wet gurgle.

 

Lance stumbles backward in horror, staring down at his hands in a slight panic. The blood coating his arm is a luminous purple, dripping through his fingers like quintessence in the dim light.

 

How had he even moved that fast? It was like he’d struck back on instinct, arm whipping forward before he could think further than ‘defend’. He had killed the guard in a second.

 

The druid’s hiss comes back to him.  _ All improvements, I assure you. _

 

Lance feels sick. Whatever they’ve done, it’s given him the reflexes to murder without hesitation, without thought to hold back. Did he... did he want to do this? It’s like he had no time to choose.

 

Or are the Galra already in his brain, under his skin? 

Maybe this is what they wanted.

 

Another solar flare rolls over the ship, electronics blinking out. Lance scrambles for the door before the locks reingage. He needs to get away, away from the soldier bleeding neon out on the floor. Needs to get off this ship.

 

Staggering down the hallway, Lance’s energy fades. The adrenaline can only go so far, and now his weak body is swamped with exhaustion. His shoulder bumps into the wall, sliding along haphazardly as his tired mind searches for an exit. Pods. There must be escape pods. This new ship is smaller; the pods must be close.

 

He clutches the scalpel tighter, nerves tense as he waits to run into another crewmember.  His hand is sticky with drying blood.  _ Fuck, why didn’t he grab the gun - he left the soldier’s gun. _ It’s too late to go back now. 

 

He brushes a smear off his cheek, the bright red of his own blood mixing gruesomely with Galran purple. The glow has faded now, plasma darkening as the last traces of life seep away. He ignores both the splatters across his body, focusing only on putting one foot in front of the other.

 

As he rounds the next corner, the hallway widens. The end closest to Lance reveals a large glass room lined with escape hatches. The other end of the hallway is full of soldiers.

 

“You there! Halt!”

 

Lance throws himself forward into the podroom, ignoring the guards that snap to attention in his peripheral vision. The room holds a ring of escape pods, full scale windows giving him a perfect view of the triple suns burning around them.

 

The sight would be breathtaking in any other situation, being so close to the roaring burn of the stars. Heavy Galra boots storm down the hall toward the room.

 

He’s so close to freedom. Lance presses his palm onto the activation panel for a pod… and the controls snap to a red glow.

 

**[ UNAUTHORIZED USER DETECTED ]**

 

No. No, he…

 

**[ PODS ENTERING LOCKDOWN ]**

 

A hollow laugh rattles out of his chest, and Lance strangles the sound before it can slide into hysteria. Of course the pod is locked down. Of course.

 

He slumps in defeat, and shouting voices enter the room. Lance doesn’t resist the claws that drag him out into the hall, dropping him suddenly when the soldiers hurry to salute.

 

“And what do we have here?” a familiar voice rumbles. Vendek.

 

Lance whirls, crawling backward across the floor in a panic. He raises the scalpel, fingers clenched and hand unsteady as he brandishes the small weapon. The commander just laughs in his face.

 

“Truly a pathetic display, especially for a paladin of Voltron,” Vendek says. “I can’t say I’m surprised.” He orders one of the guards to fetch Drevala, then takes a step closer to the Blue paladin.

 

“While I’m sure the druid will be more than willing to punish you for this escape attempt,” he starts. “I might as well get a head start, no?”

 

Lance shrinks back and a sadistic grin flows across the Galra’s face, canines sharp as he looms over his prey. “Tenderize the meat.”

 

The floor suddenly quakes with the force of an explosion on the other side of the ship. Vendek’s attention wavers, drawn away for a moment by the new threat. When the proximity alarms start ringing, his focus returns to Lance with  _ fury _ . The commander draws his weapon, a new darkness crossing his features.

 

“Or perhaps it’s time we dispose of you, once and for al-”

 

With a shrieking crash, massive red jaws clamp onto the hallway. Vendek goes careening away from Lance as the steel around them snaps and pops like tearing bones. Familiar metal fangs sink into the walls, hull crumpling inch by inch under the force of the bite.

 

Voltron.

 

.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s time at last. If you have any final requests, speak them now~  
>   
>  **Next Chapter: Keith vs Vendek**


	19. Takedown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith vs Vendek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I had strep throat :O Seeliescantlie drew Lance’s spinal implant and it glowssss so beautifully, [check it out here!!!!](https://seeliescantlie.tumblr.com/post/172237196170/tomminowrites-seeliescantlie-not-nearly-as)

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Red bites down on the hull, and the Red paladin grits his teeth in a matching snarl. He wants more than anything to tear back, rip the throat out of the ship and bleed atmosphere away from every Galra inside. 

 

“Easy Keith,” Hunk warns from his place in the cockpit. The Yellow paladin is cold and focused in a way that reminds Keith never to piss him off. He shifts his grip on the controls and Red’s jaws carefully squeeze tighter. There’s still one person aboard that needs protecting. 

 

On screen, his lion calculates the integrity of the ship, jets whirring at her feet as she stabilizes. Finally, a green alert clears on his screen.

 

“Seal established. Shiro, now!”

 

The Black paladin moves without another word, dropping down into Red’s mouth and activating his arm. With a sizzling hiss, he starts carving an entry point in the hull. Hunk follows a second later, snatching at some of the exposed Galra cables to plug in.

 

Red rumbles a reassurance to Keith when he hesitates to leave her. She’s left exposed like this, holding the seal and their escape route, but the lion pushes determined fury into his mind. 

 

_ Go, paladin. Introduce them to your fangs. _

 

Keith slides out of the pilot seat and his bayard flashes into his hand. He’ll show them fangs, alright. He drops down into Red’s jaws beside Hunk and Shiro, atmos pressure holding strong.

 

“You in, Pidge?” Hunk asks, connecting the last of the cables.

 

Back at the castleship, the Green paladin is fast at work dismantling the ship’s defenses. “Don’t forget the cortical circuit Hunk, I need a primary line.” 

 

The Yellow paladin rips another fiber out of the wall as Shiro steps back from the seam he’s welded out of the hull. Molten orange drips around a body-sized circle, metal weak but still holding.

 

Barely breaking stride as he walks, Keith kicks forward and sends the panel flying out into the corridor. The paladins follow after it, all three aboard the Galra ship before the scrap metal even stops clattering.

 

Chaos greets them on the other side, but the first thing Keith sees is Commander Vendek, claws tight as he lifts a small figure into the air. The captive’s legs kick weakly as he scrabbles against the crushing grip at his throat.

 

Lance.

 

Two pairs of eyes, one glowing yellow and one crystal blue, flick toward the new arrivals. Lance’s expression freezes in shock, before wincing again as the pressure around his neck tightens.

 

The Blue paladin is covered in blood, red and black spray coating the threadbare prisoners garment over his shoulders. The tattered bodysuit material is thin enough that Keith can still see the faint purple glow of his implant beneath the dark fabric.

 

There are other soldiers in the hallway, but Keith ignores them as he sprints toward the pair. Shiro and Hunk engage the guards while Vendek locks his focus on the Red paladin. 

 

Sneer twisting across his features, the commander tosses Lance aside and shifts into a fighting stance. The Blue paladin lands with a thud and doesn’t get back up again.

 

The steel weight of Keith’s blade extends from his bayard, and he charges forward with a yell. The commander dodges the first jab at his side, blade skittering past his ribs as he moves. Not wasting the motion, Keith rotates to cut sideways and Vendek jumps back before the sword can catch his side.

 

The co mmander lands smoothly, corded muscles moving faster than his bulk should allow. He’s fast. Not nearly as fast as Keith. The Red paladin dives forward again, but Vendek kicks out and sends him tumbling across the hall. 

 

Keith isn’t  _ thinking _ , too furious to do more than throw himself at the Galra responsible for so much of Lance’s suffering. He slides back to his feet, pulse pounding through his ears.

 

As Keith tries to steady the boiling anger, the commander unholsters his blaster and fires off two shots at the Red paladin. The first he manages to block with the flat of his sword, but the second goes scorching through the armor of his shoulder. Keith hisses at the flare of pain.

 

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person,” Vendek taunts. “ _ Keith _ , was it?”

 

“Shut up,” the Red paladin growls, trying to ignore the words. He doesn’t care what the commander has to say. Keith is only here for blood.

 

Vendek pushes forward to attack, claws swiping at Keith. The paladin skips backward a step, ducking sideways when the commander punches at him. Vendek keeps talking, lips curling into a gruesome smile. 

 

“You should have heard the way he screamed your name, the way his sobs caught in his throat.  _ Simply delectab- _ ” 

 

Keith  hooks his free hand around and slams his knuckles into the Galra’s face with a satisfying crunch. Vendek lashes out with a roar, throwing a jab at the Red paladin’s injured shoulder. Keith cries out when the blow connects. Fire races down the nerves of his arm.

 

The commander’s voice must carry over the comms, because Hunk’s voice is seething. “Keith get back, let me shoot him. Let me shoot this sonuvabitch.” The Yellow paladin unloads another round from his bayard into the mass of approaching sentries.

 

“You can’t,” Shiro says. “Keith and Lance are still too close to him.” The Black paladin grunts as he takes out the last of soldiers in the corridor. “Hunk I need you to hold that end of the hallway. Don’t let any more guards near us. Getting to Lance is our top priority.”

 

Hunk makes a reluctant sound of acknowledgement, fury still bubbling in his chest, and Shiro starts toward Lance. The Blue paladin has pulled himself to lean against the wall, coughs racking his slim frame as he tries to catch his breath.

 

Keith sees Vendek’s yellow eyes shift toward the movement, and the Galra levels his blaster at the Blue paladin.

 

“Shiro!!” Keith shouts a desperate warning.

 

The Black paladin throws himself forward, arm activating to catch the shot with a crackle of electricity. The impact makes Shiro yell in pain, cradling the limb to his chest as he lands heavily on hand and knees. Lance stirs weakly, trying to move toward their leader.

 

With a growl, the commander swats Keith away and charges at Shiro. The Black paladin meets him halfway, glowing prosthetic grabbing the barrel of Vendek’s blaster to warp it into uselessness. The two grapple for a moment, the larger Galra slowly pressing Shiro into the floor.

 

Before he can gain the advantage though, Vendek is forced to turn and parry Keith, who jumps the commander from behind. The Galra uses his ruined blaster to block the downward slash of Keith’s sword, then tosses the gun away to kick the Red paladin in the stomach.

 

The red bayard goes flying from his hand and Keith lands gracelessly on his side, winded from the impact. Shiro yells and the Red paladin vaguely registers the movement of the two fighting nearby. Vendek swings and the Black paladin drops under the hook, Shiro’s palms nearly hitting the floor before he shoulders up into the commander.

 

“I don’t know why you want him back,” the Galra snarls. “He’s damaged goods now anyway. The druid carved him up, from the inside out.”

 

Vendek shifts his weight and flings Shiro bodily into the wall with a crash. “Your pathetic comrade is broken now. He’s been singing like a bird, telling us all about your little coalition. I was just taking him to be outfitted with a Galran uniform now that he’s one of us.”

 

Keith’s breath catches in his chest, fear and horror mixing at the idea of Lance cooperating with the Galra.  _ Could it be true? _ What kind of damage have they done to the Blue paladin’s mind to make him…

 

Shiro’s conviction never wavers. “Lance is coming back with us,” he pants, leaning heavily against the hull. “No matter what.” Betrayal doesn’t matter, not under these conditions. They just want to bring Lance home. Home to heal.

 

“But your Blue paladin isn’t here anymore,” Vendek says as he turns to stalk toward Keith. “We’ve ripped him out and thrown him away.”

 

Keith is left reeling as he lies on the floor, staring up at the commander in shock. Lance has been strong - stronger than any of them ever imagined - but how much more of this torture could anyone take? What if he’s really  _ gone? _ Just a shell left behind, that the Galra have cracked and drained.

 

“N-no…” A strained voice carries across the hall, and Keith looks over to see Lance struggle shakily to his feet. “ _ No, _ ” the Blue paladin says viciously. There’s still defiance there, buried in the ice of his eyes.

 

Keith’s chest swells with new hope, and he pushes himself into a roll as Vendek aims a kick at the downed Red paladin. Still crouched, Keith throws up an arm to block the next blow toward his head. 

 

The commander punches left and Keith lunges right, scooping up the Red bayard as he dances to his feet. Claws out, Vendek swipes downward with a furious growl. 

 

Sharp nails just barely graze the Red paladin’s cheek as Keith spins outward instead of moving away. He turns his back on Vendek for a split second, fingers clenched into a tight fist around the handle of his bayard. He pulls his arm back as he turns - bayard flashing, muscles tensing, blade materializing.

 

With a hoarse shout, Keith punches forward and sinks the sword through Vendek’s chest.

 

.

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to beta [minti-e](https://minti-e.tumblr.com/), who can apparently kick anybody’s ass. Ka-pow!
> 
> Also thanks to everybody on tumblr for being a good sport when I posted an April Fools version of this chapter hahahaha ([click here for a chuckle](https://tomminowrites.tumblr.com/post/172466561431/new-chapter))  
>   
>  **Next Chapter: Drevala steps out of the shadows.**


	20. Tremble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drevala steps out of the shadows, and the paladins find themselves helpless once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS my one true love hoe-is-me made art of defiant Lance facing down Galra interrogation. [Check it out here](https://hoe-is-me.tumblr.com/post/173022346087/youve-got-another-thing-coming-if-you-think-im) _and be amazed._

.

 

.

 

Vendek’s whole body stiffens in shock, the red of the paladin’s blade extending from his back. Keith is left panting, fist clenched painfully around his bayard as he stares back into wide yellow eyes. For a moment, everything is still.

 

And then the commander sags, every joint going limp as he topples to the ground. Keith pulls his sword back with a jolt and the Galra lets out a painful gurgle. His claws drag marks across the metal floor as he tries to sit up, but it’s clear Vendek will never rise again.

 

Keith considers hitting him once more, making the dying Galra _pay_ for what he’s done. Make him pay for the taunts, for the pain, for the tears. Let Vendek feel a fraction of the suffering Voltron experienced during those damn transmissions.

 

But then Hunk is there beside him, turning the Red paladin away with a firm hand on his uninjured shoulder.

 

“You won,” the Yellow paladin says, locking eyes with Keith. “You’ve beaten him.”

 

Keith’s not fooled. He sees that same want for revenge in Hunk’s expression. The Yellow paladin is pulling himself away at the same time as he pulls Keith.

 

Keith almost shakes off his hand to go back, but then Hunk’s gaze turns away. Keith watches him run a measured eye over Shiro, checking for injury as the battered Black paladin pulls himself to his feet. Then Hunk looks forward, and Keith follows.

 

At the other end of the hallway, just a few yards away from the trio… is Lance.

 

All thoughts of Vendek trickle out of Keith’s mind. Lance pushes himself away from the wall, wobbly and weak as he looks toward the team. Blue eyes are blown wide in hopeful apprehension, as if afraid to believe what he’s seeing.

 

Finally, rescue is here. After days of flickering images and electronic conversation, they see him in person. The trio stands motionless for a second, hearts in their throats.

 

Lance takes another step forward.

 

And then he freezes, spine stiffening and body going rigid.

 

The Blue paladin’s expression jolts into shock before Keith can even register what’s gone wrong. A short puff of air rushes from Lance’s lips, as if his ribs are being squeezed into his lungs. He’s in pain, silent and quivering.

 

The shadows shift and Drevala steps forward. Ragged robes trail from her raised arm, yellow eyes glowing as she focuses unblinkingly on Lance. When the Blue paladin haltingly turns his head to look at her, every other limb straining and stiff, a curdling smile spills across her face.

 

Keith’s pulse starts again and he moves to put himself between the two, but Shiro throws up an arm to block him. The Black paladin’s eyes are locked on the druid, and Keith’s protests die on his lips.

 

Shiro looks terrified.

 

It sends a cold flood of fear through his veins, and Keith looks back to the druid warily. One arm points directly at Lance, and the other fist crackles with electricity - ready to strike the Blue paladin if any of them make too sudden a move. When Drevala glances toward the frozen trio, she throws her head back with a cackle.

 

“Your greatest weakness will always be these worthless connections,” she laughs. “Too afraid to let harm come to one another, you’ll all lose.”

 

She moves the hand she has raised toward Lance, fingers twisting and eyes glowing with magic again. The Blue paladin’s whole form trembles, muscles fighting against him. Drevala tightens his fist with a grimace. The soft wail of pain is muffled, jaw locked tight as he slowly loses the battle against his body.

 

She’s controlling him.

 

Her powers don’t stop Lance’s eyes from watering, a tear tracking down his cheek before he stumbles sideways. His feet pull him backward - away from his team and into the waiting arms of the druid.

 

Drevala wraps around her shivering hostage in a cold mockery of embrace. One of her hands crosses over the Blue paladin’s chest, pressing close to rest her chin on his shoulder. Whatever look she sees on Keith’s face makes the druid cackle again. Lance can’t even flinch away.

 

“Perfectly, it’s working perfectly,” she hisses, lips just beside Lance’s ear. “Even without the full-body implants, I can manipulate him. _My magic,_ and mine alone.”

 

The Blue paladin shudders minutely, knees locked and knuckles white where they still grip a small silver blade. Drevala’s fingers smear the red blood splotched across Lance’s cheek, but his body can only shiver, desperate to shake off the caress. Keith can’t look away from the panic in Lance’s eyes.

 

“I’ll be indispensable to the Galra empire like this. All thanks to you, little Blue.” A whimper catches in Lance’s throat, a broken, pinched sound that sets Keith jerking into motion.

 

He lifts his bayard and moves to attack, but the electricity in Drevala’s hand crackles sharply in warning.

 

“If you take even one step closer, he’ll start snapping his own fingers.” Lance’s free hand twitches, and he gasps again. Her words catch Keith off guard, and he stumbles to a stop. No, she couldn’t…

 

“Although I always did intend to stage a combat test,” the druid purrs. “Maybe I should send the Blue paladin to engage you first. Wouldn’t that be a sight?”

 

Keith feels Hunk and Shiro tense behind him, horrified. None of them dare move a muscle.

 

Satisfied with her captive audience, Drevala spares a glance for the broken body at the paladins’ feet. “I see you’ve slain Commander Vendek,” she says, clicking her tongue in admonishment. “The brute lacked imagination, but he served his purpose.”

 

A smile twists across her face. “And I must admit Vendek had rather a knack for making your little friend _scream.”_ She grips her captive tighter and Lance winces.

 

“Get your hands off him, witch,” Shiro says in a low tone. The druid is unaffected, claws trailing idly at the side of Lance’s face. Keith’s hands shake with simmering fury.

 

“Vendek was nothing,” Hunk snarls, temper finally reaching its peak. They’ve been taunted enough, strung along for days with promises of violence. “We’ll tear you to shreds for what you’ve done.”

 

“I’d like to see you try,” Drevala answers, eyes narrowing at his words.

 

The Yellow paladin just scoffs. “You expect me to be scared of some glorified magic tricks? Hiding behind a human shield, too weak to take us on face-to-face?” His voice turns sharp, angry enough to overlook the consequences of his goading. Anything to end this standoff. “No wonder the Empire ignores your work,” he spits.

 

“Watch your tongue, paladin!” Drevala raises a hand toward the trio, magic buzzing as she focuses her attention on the livid Yellow paladin.

 

Keith’s heartbeat thuds in his ears, adrenaline spiking in anticipation as precious seconds slip away.

 

Hunk has his bayard, but he can’t possibly shoot to defend himself when Lance is in the way. Shiro and Keith can’t do anything at this range either, can’t even move out of the way until they know the path of her lightning.

 

He wonders if Drevala is mad enough to try a fatal blow. Better them than Lance, though.

 

Electricity skips between her fingers, yellow eyes glowing ferociously. The chattering sparks approach crescendo.

 

The paladins brace themselves.

 

There’s a blur of movement from beside the druid, and her lightning suddenly sputters to a stop. Keith blinks in confusion. A flash of silver sticks out of her torso, glimmering.

 

It’s only then that he realizes the scalpel is gone from Lance’s hand. Keith vaguely registers that the strike was too fast to see, shock eclipsing his panic. The gap in Drevala’s attention must have given the Blue paladin a split second of freedom - enough to deliver the blade quivering into her stomach.

 

“ _Vrepit sa_ ,” Lance bites out, words venomous as he pushes himself away from her.

  


.

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [hoe-is-me](https://hoe-is-me.tumblr.com/) and [minti-e](https://minti-e.tumblr.com/) for looking over the chapter, and thank you everyone for being patient while I was away!!  
>  _Also, yes the chapter count went up again this is the Neverending Story yaaaaaay_
> 
>  
> 
> **Next Chapter: A long overdue reunion, although nothing is ever easy.**


	21. Tomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Free from Drevala’s control, Lance staggers away from the druid and into the arms of his teammates. But reunion is rarely so easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone who left kind messages of encouragement and love. Your patience has meant the world to me ♥

_. _

 

_. _

 

_ “ _ _ Vrepit sa,” Lance bites out, words venomous as he pushes himself away _ _ from her. _

 

Drevala rips the blade out with a screech. An immediate shot from Hunk sends her spinning away from Lance, and the druid crumples to the floor with a thud. Lance stumbles backward, unbalanced and wobbly now that his body is in his control again. The only instinct he can follow is the need to get away from the groaning witch.

 

Hunk fires again, another bolt of light tearing through the druid’s purple rags. She screams once and falls silent amid the smell of singed flesh. 

 

Keith dives toward Lance just as the Blue paladin’s knees give out. They both tumble to the floor, Lance blinking like he’s trying to clear spots from his vision. Hunk and Shiro crowd around a moment later, calling the Blue paladin’s name in alarm.

 

When Lance looks up again, he flinches violently and scrambles backward out of Keith’s arms, who is too shocked to stop him.

 

“Not again, please, I… I can’t do this again,” Lance begs, eyes squeezing shut as he presses his hands to his temples. The rejection sends a cold rush across Keith’s skin, Vendek’s promise of betrayal echoing in his ears. Could Lance really-

 

But as the Blue paladin cowers away from his rescuers, Keith is suddenly reminded of the last time Lance “saw” the three of them. At the mercy of the druid’s poison, Lance had faced phantoms and soldiers specifically masquerading as Hunk, Shiro, and Keith. How many times had the Galra dangled a thread of hope above the paladin and then snatched it away - taunting and violent and cruel?

 

Keith realizes all at once: Lance thinks he’s hallucinating again.

 

The Blue paladin curls his knees tighter to his chest, and Keith motions for the others to stay back. Shiro and Hunk hesitate but obey, watching as Keith kneels carefully in front of their shuddering teammate. There has to be something he can do, some way to convince Lance that this is real. He leans closer, waiting until the Blue paladin risks a glance.

 

Finally, scared irises flicker upward. When they lock eyes, both paladins freeze. 

 

Keith doesn’t dare to breathe. “Lance… it’s me,” he murmurs.

 

Lance’s gaze darts across the Red paladin’s face, frantically searching for something Keith can’t name. He tries to push all the love, all the worry, to the forefront of his expression.

 

The moment trembles, balanced on a knife’s edge and waiting to fall. Keith can only wait in silence. 

 

Blue eyes meet his gaze once more. Keith has a flash of memory from the lockdown, glass window between them as Lance chose his friends over himself. Their mission on the battlecruiser feels years away, but that moment through the airlock door will forever be seared into Keith’s heart.

 

He remembers Lance’s last words, whispered over the comms just before the Galra took him away. That final moment before it all went wrong.

 

“I’m sorry,” Keith echoes now. He finds himself at a loss; unsure how he can possibly prove he’s genuine, helpless to reassure the person he loves.

 

That desperation must show on his face, just for a moment. A heartbeat later... Lance’s face crumples into that same beautiful smile he gave on the bridge.

 

_ “Keith,” _ he says with breathless relief. “You’re really Keith.”

 

The tension breaks all at once, and Lance’s whole body relaxes, shoulders rippling like a marionette with its strings dropped.

 

“Look Lance, I…” Keith starts to apologize - or maybe confess, he’s not sure which yet. But he’s cut off with an  _ oof  _ when Lance throws his arms around his neck and lets out a sob.

 

Keith tenses for a moment, then slowly wraps his arms around the Blue paladin. He wants to hold him tight, but nothing could make him forget the wounds that criss-cross Lance’s body. Keith squeezes as much as he dares, holding the shaking paladin together but careful not to crush.

 

Behind him, Hunk is sniffling, scrubbing at his eyes before lunging forward to wrap them both into a hug. Behind him, Keith hears Shiro finally,  _ finally  _ let out a breath of relief - the weight of the Blue paladin’s life lifting from their leader’s shoulders at last.

 

The Black paladin lifts a hand to his comms, switching back to long range broadcast. “We have him.” The line erupts in cheers, Pidge whooping and Allura asking if they’re safe for extraction.

 

They’re bringing Lance back.

 

Pressed forward by Hunk’s bear hug, Keith glances down at to where his own arms circle Lance’s thin frame. His hands smear with blood, dark purple and red mixing together like an angry bruise. It’s fresh, and covering Lance.

 

Keith jerks back in alarm, finally taking in the state of the other paladin. He’s splattered in gore, red drying to rust all across his chest and face.

 

“Lance, LANCE hey.” Keith tries to get his attention in a panic. “Where are you hurt?”

 

“What?” The Blue paladin is dazed, overwhelmed by the sudden realization of rescue.

 

Hunk pulls back and gasps as well. “Lance you’re covered in blood. Are you injured, did Vend-?”

 

“Oh! No it’s… it’s not my blood,” the Blue paladin says wearily. “Well, technically it is, but not like you think.” Keith is still baffled, but Lance just hugs him again and buries his head back onto the Red paladin’s shoulder. “I’m okay. I’m okay now,” he repeats, almost as if talking to himself.

 

Keith squeezes tighter, grateful for the reassuring feel of their missing paladin under his fingertips. It’s like his hands are steady for the first time in days.

 

“You came back for me, just like you said,” Lance murmurs into his ear. Then, softer,  _ “...thank you.” _

 

The quiet words are wrapped in enough emotion that Keith is forced to blink back tears. He feels his shoulders soften, arms curling a fraction tighter around the Blue paladin’s ribs. Lance is here, solid under his palms.

 

But before Keith can form an answer, Lance goes limp.

 

The Red paladin’s heart stops when the form in his arms slumps, and he calls Lance’s name in distress. Shiro is suddenly beside them, fingers pressing at the younger paladin’s pulse point. Keith can’t breathe, can’t think past the panic.

 

But the tension in Shiro’s shoulders releases. “He’s only unconscious. We need to get him back to a healing pod. Immediately.”

 

_ Unconscious... _ Keith’s heart starts pumping again. Just passed out. That makes sense, considering what the Blue paladin has been through. And now that his friends have him, he’s safe at last.

 

Hunk helps Keith stagger to his feet, and then the Yellow paladin moves to scoop Lance into his arms. Keith hovers beside Hunk, hands unsure where to touch but needing to make sure that Lance isn’t really injured, isn’t bleeding out as they carry him toward safety. 

 

Shiro gently pulls him away, swinging an arm around Keith’s waist so they can support each other. Hunk cradles his best friend close, his grip careful but unshakably firm.

 

They stagger past the commander’s body, his massive form seeming to shrink in death. Keith is struck by a wave of satisfaction. Lance’s tormentors are dead, both of them. He sweeps his eyes over to the druid’s body as well.

 

But she’s gone.

 

There’s nothing but a smear of blood on the floor. Keith’s muscles tense anew -  _ she’s alive, the witch is still a threat! _ his brain screams. Before he can even call an alarm, they hear a clatter from the row of escape hatches.

 

Drevala has dragged herself over to the pods, pressing a gnarled hand to the activation panel. The screen flashes red, and the druid snarls in frustration.

 

**[ POD ACCESS DENIED: LOCKDOWN INITIATED BY UNAUTHORIZED USER ]**

 

A flood of outrage hits Keith. She’s trying to escape. After everything she’s done, all the blood split on this ship… The druid turns tail to run away.

 

“Coward!” bursts from Keith before he stop it. 

 

Drevala turns at the word, lips drawing back into a disgusted sneer. They hear the distinctive sound of electricity gathering in her palm, and Shiro steps forward to put his body between the druid and his paladins protectively.

 

But with Lance too unconscious to be used as leverage and the commander lying dead on the floor, Drevala must realize they outnumber her three to one. The magic stalls in her grip.

 

“You need me,” she tries. “You need me to work on the implant. I’m the only one that can fix your precious teammate.”

 

“You’ll never touch Lance again,” Hunk says, conviction turning his words into a threat.

 

Drevala’s face twists into vicious anger. “Then he’ll  _ suffer. _ My alterations will burn him up from the inside out, and you’ll be helpless to stop the pain. Just like you’ve all been useless protecting him from the Galra!”

 

Shiro activates his arm with a searing glow, furious. Before he can advance on the druid though, Pidge’s voice rings over the comms.

 

“Guys, the entire freighter is destabilized,” she warns. “I have limited control of the ship systems but… it's still gonna collide with one of the suns in minutes. Get Lance and get out of there, now!”

 

The Black paladin pauses, muscles in his shoulder tensing for a moment. And then Shiro deactivates his arm. Turns his back on the druid.

 

“Leave her.”

 

“But what abou-”

 

“Pidge, seal all the mechanical exits,” Shiro orders. His tone darkens as he heads toward the hole they carved in the hull, where the Red lion waits. “We’re the only ones leaving this system.”

 

He briefly locks eyes with Keith as he passes, and only then does the Red paladin realize why Shiro turned away. There’s hatred flickering in the leader’s expression, a darkness wanting so badly to tear the druid to shreds - but knowing that once he started, he may never come back.

 

It’s better to let the fire have her.

 

.

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **What do you want to see in the next chapter??** Aftermath is quite difficult for me to write, so suggestions of how the team would react when Lance wakes up would be SO APPRECIATED
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO!! I wrote a delightfully indulgent truth serum fic for the Klance & Friends charity zine, and it's only a couple bucks for a PDF or print version. [Check it out on tumblr before pre-orders close next week!](https://tomminowrites.tumblr.com/tagged/klanceandfriendszine) (and get a coupon code too)


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